


And The Path Is Dark

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:32:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The Light shall lead her safely<br/>Through the paths of this world, and into the next.”</p><p>A Cullen/Amell story throughout Dragon Age: Origins, (past) Dragon Age II and Dragon Age: Inquisition. AU during Inquisition, contains lots of spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set the night before Solona Amell’s Harrowing.

A young templar closed the door of Knight-Commander's office with a heavy heart. His orders were clear: tomorrow he would take part in a Harrowing of a certain apprentice Amell. His duty would be to kill the apprentice should she fail the test.  
He sighed. It was going to be hard.  
"Hey, Cullen! What did Commander want with you?" he heard from one of his fellow templars passing by on a patrol.  
Cullen was not eager to speak with anyone right at that moment so he tried to get rid of the unwanted attention: "I have my orders, Ryan. Now if you would excuse me, I have other duties to attend." And he hurried away. It was wrong to treat his friend that way, but he wanted to be alone. Much to his luck it was already late and the whole Circle went deadly quiet save for some patrols. So he headed to the chapel, the most calm and undisturbed place in the whole tower.  
While he descended the stairs, many thoughts ran through his mind. Why was he, of all people, assigned to deliver the killing strike and why for her Harrowing? He wondered if anyone had noticed his attention towards her or it was just the cruel fate. Cullen remembered how he first met her while she was attending her lessons with First Enchanter and he was standing watch. That day her lightning spell went amiss and he had to help her to stand up, while also ensuring that the wrong spell wouldn't harm anyone. He was quite proud of himself that day as he completed his task not without grace. Since that day, try as he might, he could not forget her slender frame in his arms and her beauty haunted his dreams.  
The chapel was quiet as always that time of a day, and he entered slowly trying not to disturb its peace and secretly hoping to find his own peace inside. Suddenly something odd caught his eye, trained to stay ever vigilant. Beneath the statue of Andraste among the candles he noticed a small hooded figure. In the surrounding darkness Cullen couldn't figure out who or what it was, but he decided to approach carefully. A mix of fear and anger filled him: who could it be? Who lingered here so late in the evening?  
"Who are you?" He asked. The reply never came.  
He repeated the question having come closer, but still was not answered. As he came even nearer he realized that it was certainly a mage apprentice considering the robes. The apprentice was collapsed on his knees on the floor, hands clasped together, elbows sticking out to the sides, and head bent forth. The templar's anger strengthened alongside with a shame that he was for a moment frightened by an apprentice. Swiftly he stepped up to the apprentice and lifted him, dragging him up by an elbow quite harshly:  
"Answer me, apprentice!" He ordered. The hood fell off. "...Amell?" It was her.  
And then it was her turn to be angry. "Don’t you dare touch me!" she threw, pulling her arm from him forcefully. So unexpected was her reaction, so strong was her image of an offended one, that he gave in and backed away muttering something like "I'm sorry, forgive me, my lady."  
When that image faded away and he managed to compose himself again, she was already her usual self: "No, no, ser, it is me who is sorry. I was lost in my thoughts and I beg your pardon."  
Following the surprise written on his face, she continued to explain. "I was born and raised as a noble; I still can't get fully used to being here in the Circle."  
"You are nobility?" He couldn't believe her words.  
"I was once," she corrected him. "I am Amell. You are not a Kirkwaller, I presume, or my name would speak for itself. Maybe once, you will visit my hometown to admire its stone beauty." She was speaking with dignity that he had not seen in her before.  
Cullen was trying to convince himself that he was not dreaming again. A girl he loved was standing so close to him and her voice was filling his head. Young and enamored he was, so he stared and listened not being able to interrupt her.  
And Amell was glad to have an audience. "My mother concealed my magic for as long as she could, even from me. Eventually, it was one of our family’s friends, and a Knight-Captain also, who sensed the magic and got me here." Her voice was filled with warmth, no hint of anger in it.  
"So... you don't hate, um, all the templars?" Cullen tried to show as little personal interest as he could.  
She was surprised by his question."Why should I? I have always thought of them as protectors, selfless and brave... And the one I mentioned before was very kind to me, while we were travelling here, taught me some basics about magic as well."  
"I still don't know why he took me here. I suppose my family wanted to get rid of me." She sighed, and added, "But I'm grateful anyway. It's the best for me and for all, I believe."  
Her modesty and dignified acceptance of her fate moved the templar deeply. He wanted to comfort her, to support her, but he couldn't, he shouldn't do that. He had already spent too much time there with her.  
"Anyway, what are you doing here so late at night?" He inquired, frowning a bit."It is a rude violation of order."  
"I came to pray." She was looking straight into his eyes, honest and sincere.  
Cullen didn't expect such an answer. "To pray? I thought mages were not very religious as such."  
"Mages are different, as the templars are." She said quietly." I was raised in a faithful family; it's only natural for me, though I don't do it often now."  
He didn't interrupt her, sorry for his previous remark, and she hurried, as if she was afraid to leave something important unsaid.  
"I came here-That is-I'm so scared! There are rumors that my Harrowing is soon, any day now, and of course, I can't know for sure, but I feel- Oh, by the look of the First Enchanter- I _know_ , these rumors are true! Oh Maker..." Her voice trembled with fear and distress. "I'm so scared," she repeated, "they don't tell us what we have to accomplish during the Harrowing, but many of the apprentices had not returned...and I- I don't want to die-" she nearly sobbed, but took a deep sigh to calm herself and finished, "I wanted to find some comfort in praying, but as I came here, I realized...I just can't remember or find any words anymore." Solona shook her head in disapproval. "So I just sat here thinking and dreaming...Not in the Fade, I swear!" she added quickly, catching the sudden alarm in his gaze.  
"But you, you must know the Chant very well, don't you?" Her thought almost made her smile in spite of all her fears and tears in her eyes, "won't you help me to start?" She pleaded.  
Cullen felt his heart was breaking into pieces as he watched her pain, and her unusual request caught him off guard completely. _‘I will be your judge tomorrow, and maybe an executioner as well,’_ he thought grimly, _‘might as well be your priest today’._  
"I will," he replied calmly, "just repeat after me."  
And then he lowered himself to one knee and she sat on her both beside him. She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her body. After a second's thought he drew out a sword and placed it in front of him on the floor." It is wrong to address the Maker armed", he explained to her, noticing her flinch involuntarily at the sound of a sword unsheathed. _‘Also, it would be easier to use it if necessary’,_ he thought to himself, still bearing in mind that even to be lost in thoughts was dangerous for a mage.  
They both lowered their heads in respect, and the templar started:  
"O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights," his voice was quiet but clear and strong.  
"O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights," she repeated obediently.  
And so they prayed together, him leading and her repeating over, and in a while his thoughts drifted to his own fears and worries. For indeed, that Harrowing would be a test for him also. May the Maker grant him power to do what he must.  
"For You are the fire at the heart of the world, And comfort is only Yours to give." Cullen finally concluded, adding a line of his own, "Grant me strength to do what has to be done when the need comes." He closed his eyes trying to find his inner peace.  
"Grant us strength to do what has to be done when the need comes." She repeated passionately.  
Her mistake made him open his eyes and turn to her staring: "Us?"  
She felt his gaze and also turned her face to him, her eyes bright and reflecting the candlelight. She had not noticed the slip of her tongue. She also didn't dare say anything, for they both suddenly felt the intimacy of the moment they shared.  
Seconds passed, and the templar was the first to regain his composure."I think it is enough," he tried to sound as formal as he could," now you must return to your quarters immediately. I will escort you there to ensure it myself." Cullen also promised himself not to say a single word to her again tonight.  
She felt there was no room for the discussion on the matter, and headed out of the chapel and to the stairs. He followed her closely, his eyes vigilant and his heart aching from the memory of how close to him she was a moment ago.  
They descended slowly, and he was grim and silent. She, on the contrary, seemed to be freed from her burden for a while, her spirit light and full of joy. The memories of her childhood and youth were apparently the subject of her thoughts again.  
"You know, as a little girl, I listened to the tales my mother read me. The tales of ladies and knights, they were my favorite. I dreamt that one day I would be a lady myself and have my brave and loyal knight..." She sounded carried away by her fantasies."Wait, but you are a knight, a true one, with a sword and everything!" Solona clapped her hands like a little girl. Well, she was not so far from a little girl, being still very young.  
"And you were always so polite with me, not counting today..." She rubbed her elbow that was still sore, and Cullen frowned inside: _‘Would it kill you to be a little more gentle?’_ he scolded himself mentally.  
"And I can easily, oh yes, so easily imagine, that you're not convoying me to the Apprentice quarters, but instead accompanying me in order to protect me from every evil that I might encounter on my way." Her voice was solemn and full of admiration. Suddenly she halted and turned around to face him, and with a theatrical gesture stretched a hand pointing towards him, exclaiming:  
"Will you be my knight, ser Cullen?"  
His reaction was quick enough to stop when she stopped, now standing two stairs lower than him. He was staring at her in surprise. Though her tone was mocking, her eyes were earnest and looking at him with affection and admiration. It was the first time she called him by his name, which he was sure before she didn't even remember.  
He was undone. Later he would not be able to explain his actions, but now he wasn't thinking. Swiftly he took her hand stretched towards him in his both armored hands, pulling it to himself and placing the lightest kiss on the back of it. He dared not let it go after, pressing his lips and nose against her hand, his eyes closed.  
He couldn't say how much time passed. She was astonished by his sudden passion, and her hand burned from the sensation of the contrast between the cold of his metal gauntlets and his hot lips. Finally, she was the one to break the silence:  
"I should really go now, the Apprentice quarters are just behind this door," she backed away, drawing her hand gently from him. Cullen let it go effortlessly, his eyes cast down.  
Quickly she caught his left hand before it fell down by his side and placed something small in his palm, pushing his fingers to the center of it to cover her gift safely. “Maker watch over you, my knight,” she whispered tenderly, “take this as a token of my favor.” With that, she disappeared behind the door, leaving him alone.  
Cullen looked down at his palms again, not being able to believe that they had just touched her and held her. And when he looked, he found a small golden ring with a crest that depicted two mighty birds looking at each other.


	2. The Evening After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set right after the Broken Circle quest.

Knight-Commander Greagoir promised Solona that his men would search the tower for the survivors, but she couldn't fully trust him. He was quite ready to sacrifice them all for the safety reasons not so long before.  
"I will also look for them myself, Knight-Commander." She knew he would not stop her.  
So she left the apprentice quarters and headed upstairs where the mages once lived. All the way the thoughts wouldn't leave her. It was all overwhelming, hard to believe, impossible...But still it was true and she had to face it. The Circle, her home, no longer existed as she knew it, her friends and acquaintances were almost all dead, and, on top of that, the thought that she might have been among them, the most unnerving one. Would she die fighting, become an abomination, or be saved like the First Enchanter?  
She passed by the entrance to the chapel and suddenly felt she wanted to come inwards. The memory of her shared prayer with Cullen came to her, as though her subconscious never stopped thinking about him since she freed him from his magical prison. Despite all the circumstances, that memory even managed to bring a small smile on her lips. So sincere, and suddenly so passionate he was then, and so distant and nervous the morning after... She wondered whether he knew about her Harrowing and his own part in it that night. As she passed through the door the sight of the fallen statue of Andraste caught her eye forcing her back into reality and her heart went down again.  
She scanned the vast hall with her tired eyes: the mess, a broken chair, a body, another one, the templar sword lying so useless, some pages torn from the book...  
To her side she saw a templar knelt before the smaller and undamaged statue. He was praying quietly, desperately and feverishly, whispering the words unintelligible to her, his head down. She approached him slowly, wondering if he had not received the orders from Greagoir. _'All the survivors must gather in the apprentice quarters, where the infirmary is being installed. There they will be tended to and interrogated.'_  
"For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light..." She heard him and recognized Cullen's voice.  
"Cullen!" She exclaimed, "What are you doing here? You're injured, you should be in the infirmary..."  
He paid no attention and would not even lift his head. Only repeating the Chant as if he was grasping at straws.  
Solona felt pity for him despite all his unkind words before. She had to admit that his unwilling confession of harboring feelings for her confused and moved her. Could she imagine then that he was so serious about it? That night before her Harrowing he comforted her, and she only wanted to give him the same now.  
"Cullen," she started softly, "I know how you feel. You are not the only one who lost close ones here to that terrible attack." She spoke calmly but screamed inside as the memory of those she had lost was invoked again. "Your brothers are gone, but you still live. Now is not the time to mourn them, the situation is dire."  
She put a hand on his shoulder trying to reassure and comfort him, but he flinched like her hand was burning hot and shook it off. The Chant had stopped.  
"Why won't you leave me alone?" His voice came through the clenched teeth. "Why won't you just let me be?" He sounded irritated and filled with pain. He wouldn't look at her, he wanted her to go away.  
"Now is not the time!" She repeated, her voice forceful and filling the chapel hall. "You will have time to honor the dead when this is over. There is a war out there, the Blight!" She exclaimed, pointing somewhere towards the outer wall. No apprentice, no enchanter was speaking. Instead, the leader of men, the Grey Warden was in her voice. "We need all the soldiers that can fight, and you are a soldier! You swore to protect the people, now go protect them! It is your duty-"  
Cullen stood up turning to face her. Suddenly he was standing so close yet so foreign he was. He was not going to be lectured by a mage.  
"My duty?" His voice was dangerous and threatening. "You dare remind me about my duty? You, the first reason I got distracted from it, the reason for my sin and my torture-" he was at a loss with words, his hand pointing to her and his eyes glaring with rage and hatred.  
Solona was hoping that he could eventually tell her apart from the desire demon wearing her face. "It was not me, it was the demons-"  
"Ah yes, the demons, your friends demons... Was it them who taught you how to seduce a man, how to corrupt his righteous heart and break his will? Tell me!" His voice grew louder with every word, nearly into the shouting in the end.  
She felt the resentment caused by his unjust words building inside her chest. "I did no such thing! I-"  
"Enough!"  
He yelled and raised his hand with clear intention to slap her, but she ducked and he missed, caught off balance as a consequence of his own movement. He fell backwards, grasping at her in his futile attempt to keep standing and pulling her with him by that.  
They both fell down together with a loud sound of armor hitting the stone.  
He absorbed the shock from their fall so she was not hurt, but he hit his head badly and passed out. When she opened her closed tightly out of pure reflexes eyes she was lying on top of him and he was still unconscious.  
Solona was frightened to death. She shifted to sit on her knees beside him, resisting the urge to run away. He had attacked her, and once he was awake he could do it again. And despite being a combat trained mage she would still not dare to duel a templar. Yet she could not leave him to die there. She leaned over him to check if he was still breathing.  
Cullen moaned and opened his eyes. His gaze was lost, disoriented. "Oh, Maker." He touched the back of his head covered in blood, groaning in pain. He spotted her face over him, watching him with worry and tears in her eyes.  
"Who are you?" He whispered, managing to sit up and studying her face, so familiar. The demon had never once cried, and her eyes were red from weeping. The pain and guilt twisted his face. "Are you a demon or not? But... I can't...I don't care... Maker forgive me...You're so beautiful." He gasped.  
She felt him leaning towards her, his hand sliding up her back to rest on the back of her head, pulling her gently but insistently towards him. Somehow she knew he was going to kiss her. Strange heat burst from inside her chest to her cheeks. His nose was almost touching her, and he closed his eyes...  
No. She had to stop it. Nothing good would ever come out of it, and he had suffered enough. So she jumped to her feet, distancing her from the templar who had finally submitted to his desire.  
"I am definitely not a demon. I am a Grey Warden who had come here to seek an alliance with mages to fight the darkspawn." That was the only truth that mattered now. Her past life was left behind, and it would be cruel to let the remnants of it haunt his one.  
Cullen blinked staring at her, confused. Her face was familiar, yet something that he had never seen in it before was written in her eyes. Confidence, courage and determination.  
And she continued. "I've found you in the hands of a demon, so I'm not surprised you'd ask. I believe you are gravely injured and...well, not quite sane."  
"Insane? Why would you say that?" He was indeed unsure of what he remembered, but he was able to reason clearly, or so it seemed to him.  
"You keep talking about some female mage whom you are infatuated with, but I think that's the vision planted in your brain by the demon, not truth." She could not hide her disgust for the blood magic that had brought him to that state. She hated the thought he would want to kiss her as a result of the demon's torture.  
"How would _you_ know which was true?" Was she right? Could his memory be affected and even altered by a demon's touch?  
"First, it would be highly inappropriate for a templar to be affectionate towards a mage, so I don't believe it. Second, you're accusing me of being her, and I have never met you before, and I'm not even a mage." She was lying straight into his eyes, her face unreadable and her posture upright. As she was recruited into Wardens, her life started anew. It would be only merciful and reasonable to let him do the same. He had to forget.  
"Not a mage?" He repeated. All that she said made sense, and all he remembered didn't.  
"Do I look like a mage to you?" She risked a lot, for he as a templar could sense the magic. But he was tired and broken, so he didn't sense anything besides his throbbing pain in the head.  
He studied her attentively, looking up and down. He noticed the pommel of a sword and the top of a shield behind her shoulders, as well as the heavy plate armor she was equipped with. No, she could not be a mage.  
"No." He was persuaded.  
"Good. Your Knight-Commander has ordered everyone to gather on the ground floor. Is that clear? Can you walk?" It was the Blight, and she was a Grey Warden. She had the full right to command, so she took it without hesitation.  
"Yes, ser Warden." He replied, leaning forward on his hands and then standing up with an effort.  
Solona watched him slowly walking out of the chapel and out of her life. Though was he ever there in her life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have guessed, Solona Amell had already visited the Dalish and become an Arcane Warrior. Wearing the Juggernaut armor set, she tricked Cullen into believing she was not a mage.


	3. A Change Will Do You Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen leaves for Kirkwall, after the Blight had ended and he had spent some time in Greenfell.

Cullen had just arrived from Greenfell, and crossing the lake and climbing up the stairs, he wondered what the reason was for his summoning back to Kinloch Hold. The letter from the Knight-Commander that he had received contained only a brief order to return immediately, but did not explore the matter further. It was nice to be in the Circle again; despite all that happened, it was still his home.  
When he entered the office, the Knight-Commander was sitting behind his desk, bent over numerous papers scattered all over the table. Greagoir lifted his head to the sound of the door opening. Cullen noticed that his Commander had got a lot more grey hair since he last saw him; he looked tired from a hard working day.  
“Knight-Commander! Arrived for service on your order, ser.” Cullen reported.  
“All right,” replied Greagoir and his voice was somewhat creaky, “there’s no need to be so formal, my boy. Take a sit.”  
Culled sat at the table to the side of Knight-Commander, awaiting his explanations.  
“You might wonder why I have summoned you back here. Well, the short answer is,” Greagoir leaned back on his chair and studied Cullen’s face, “that the Order needs your service.”  
The templar was still sitting upright, but his face seemed to enlighten. It was good that his service was at last appreciated. Before he left for Greenfell he felt that Commander did not take his warnings seriously, did not want to give ear to his suggestions about Tower’s internal order changes.  
“I hope you feel better now, for you have to be on form for the service.” Greagoir continued.  
Culled frowned immediately. He was not as deranged in the first place as they all pretended when they sent him to that Greenfell Chantry. He was only vigilant and wary, but they wouldn’t listen to him, even the Knight-Commander.  
“I am quite well, Knight-Commander, as I have always been, and ready and eager to serve.” He replied coldly.  
“And if you mean that incident with Irving, I still stand my ground: you have no proof that he was not involved in the blood mages’ attack, and I don’t understand why you-“  
“Enough of that!” Greagoir cut, standing up to underline the importance of his words. “You are speaking of the First Enchanter! Show some respect for his age if you don’t have any for his rank!”  
‘Neither age, nor rank, Knight-Commander, makes a mage less susceptible to the demons’ whispering temptation.” Cullen’s voice was calm and freezing, so that even Greagoir felt uneasy.  
“Now listen to me, templar,” he hissed angrily, coming closer to tower over sitting Cullen, “you may have forgotten that, but the Order is not about judging or having the opinions of your own! The Order is about serving, and as long as I’m your Knight-Commander, you will do and say and think as I command. Is that understood?”  
Cullen knew that his commander was right and he had really crossed the line. “Yes, ser,” he muttered.  
“Good.” Greagoir sat down again. “Though it will not last for a long time. Here, read this,” and he handed Cullen one of the opened letters lying on his desk.  
The latter ran the text through quickly with his eyes. The letter was addressed to Knight-Commander, but it was about him. He was offered a position in Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi.  
He looked up to Knight-Commander, a question in his eyes.  
“I insist that you take the offer. It would be the best for everyone.” There was no room for the discussion in his tone.  
“Then I’ll take it, ser,” Cullen replied colorlessly. It really did not matter to him at the moment.  
“Good.” Greagoir seemed satisfied. “You have one day to pack your belongings and after that you leave.”  
“Yes, ser,” came the usual reply.

* * *

Cullen looked all over his small room once more. It was so odd and empty now when he was almost packed to leave for Kirkwall. He had few belongings and all of them were put in a backpack. The templar sighed.  
The Fereldan Circle of Magi was his second home for a long time and now he was leaving. What was waiting for him in Kirkwall Circle? He had never been out of Ferelden before, and now he was to move permanently out of it. Cullen pulled himself together, trying to put aside the feeling of being exiled from his homeland.  
He did feel like someone everyone wanted to get rid of before he was sent to Greenfell. Even the Knight-Commander seemed to be displeased with him. Cullen suspected that many of his reports were going straight into the waste bin. No doubt, they all feared to learn the truth, they closed their eyes instead of facing the foe. He wondered how they could be still in charge, both of them, the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander, after they failed in controlling the Circle, and failed so gravely? Why hadn't they retired yet? Why weren't they replaced, one should ask? What could they accomplish, but drive the Tower into a disaster once more?  
No one would answer those questions. Still, as much as Cullen despised both of them, he had to admit that restoration of Circle had been progressing at an acceptable speed so far. He couldn't deny them that. The templar reinforcements arrived from Denerim, both young recruits and seasoned warriors, and even new mage apprentices, though few, arrived too. The Circle was going back to its normal life in spite of the consequences of the Blight.  
And he just couldn't. His normal life ended long ago, somewhere in the middle of the days, or weeks, he was not sure, of his imprisonment in a magical cage. He was robbed of it. But as he had witnessed firsthand how dangerous magic was, his duty was now to prevent that from happening again, from ruining the lives of others as it had ruined his own. There always were not enough templars, so everyone of them had to do everything in their power to fulfil their promises. It was a hard and never-ending fight, he figured, also an unequal one. Templars were trained for many years and had to sacrifice lots of their personal lives to serve the Maker. And mages were just born. As simple as it was, just born! Was there any hope of winning? No. They simply had to run as fast as they could, only to stay in the same place.  
With those grim thoughts Cullen realized he was standing by a window watching the twilight sky mirroring in the Lake Calenhad. The water was undisturbed and peaceful. Would the Sea be just like this lake, only bigger? He had never seen the Sea before and tried to imagine it. Maybe it would serve him well, to change a place. The sea air is said to be good for health. He could start anew, using his experience to the best in Kirkwall Circle.  
He returned to sit by the table where a map of the City State was spread. He wanted to get himself acquainted with the city and its surroundings in advance, his attitude being thorough as always. The Gallows, right, the Docks, the Lowtown and the Hightown, the Estates of various noble families, Amell, Harimann, and... Wait. Amell?  
That's what her name was. Cullen suddenly remembered it so clearly.

> She is standing before him, fair and pure. She is slender and fragile like a flower, yet at the same time stately and strong: this flower will never bend in the wind. She's looking at him without fear but respectful. She is open and honest, innocent like a child. " I'm Amell," she says, and her noble ancestors speak through her.  
> 

His memory was a mess after his mind was a toy in the hands of a demon and blood mages. Some parts were clear, for instance, he recalled his joy and wonder when he arrived at the Tower for the first time. The immense and ancient building captured his imagination. But for the most parts, he was confused, not knowing what happened in reality, especially when it came to her.  
Did she truly exist or was she merely a vision? He tried to check in the archives, but the documents seemed to be lost or destroyed during the attack. He had no one to talk the matter over. What was her fate? Did she die during the attack among the other mages? No, she left before the attack, to be a Grey Warden. All the Grey Wardens vanished at Ostagar, though one of them saved the Circle from the inevitable annulment. Was it her? No, that was some other Warden, a warrior with a longsword. Probably, that mage never existed, or was long dead.  
Whether that Amell was real or not, his nightmares were her realm. Although they became more seldom and less intense with time, he still feared to go to sleep, preferring the overnight watches. The main theme of a nightmare was always the same: he longed to find her and couldn't. He couldn't remember her face, or recognize her among the demons.  
Sometimes he would chase her, but in vain, stumbling and falling down only to find himself among the bodies of his friends, the templars. They were dead but then they opened their eyes looking at him and asking why he left them, why he didn't want to stay with them.  
Sometimes he would catch her and try to look into her face, but suddenly it wasn't her. It was a demon laughing and howling, deafening him with the high-pitched screams. The demon would show him every bit of her body, shoving it in his face, but not her face, replaced by a frightening demon mask.  
Sometimes he looked into her face, and there just wasn't one. It was the worst one. Hollow emptiness, unnatural nothingness stared at him and he couldn't look away. He wanted to, but at the same time didn't want to, sickly attracted to the disgusting and frightening vision before his eyes. Even if he managed to turn away, he couldn't fight the feeling to look again, to check if it was still there, and when he looked, it was, and once more he couldn't help staring. He felt he would give everything to end that vision, but he knew he'd already given everything he got and there was nothing left.  
Cullen stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scratching the floor. He had to fight, to control his mind, to stop the memories of Amell. Maybe moving to Kirkwall would indeed help him to forget everything that happened in Kinloch Hold. What the eye sees not the heart rues not.  
The room seemed to shrink in size, and he felt the need for more space and more air. He walked out, deciding to have one last stroll around the tower before leaving.  
Cullen was trying to be quiet, as it was early in the morning, just past the dawn. Walking through the templar quarters, he passed by the dormitory doors. _'Maker turn his gaze on you, brothers. Stay strong and vigilant.'_ He prayed silently. The place was so familiar he could navigate through it blindfolded and in the dark, but the people were mostly unknown to him. He felt left out.  
"Ser! Please, ser!" Called a ringing voice. Cullen almost jumped in surprise, turning to the source of the voice. There stood a boy, around ten years old, calling out.  
Cullen hurried to him: "Apprentice? Here?" The templar joined his brows, frowning.  
A boy wore a brand new apprentice robe, too large for him. He was skinny and fair-haired, and looked frightened.  
"I'm sorry, ser, I got lost." His accent reminded Cullen of something, but he couldn't catch it.  
"It's only a week I've been here, and the Tower is so big!" The boy continued, "We don't have so large buildings back at home. I miss my home. When can I go home?" He asked with hope in his voice.  
"You cannot." Cullen replied coldly.  
"Oh. I feared so." The boy pulled himself together, leaving Cullen impressed. As much as he hated mages, he couldn't help feeling sympathetic to the little child.  
"Why are you sad, ser? Are you lost too?" The boy asked, as if he saw through Cullen.  
"I-Yes, in a sense." Cullen suddenly realized how long it had been since he spoke with someone openly for the last time. "What's your name?"  
"Cadrim, ser!" he replied, straightening up as if he was playing and pretending to be a soldier reporting to a general. Cullen coughed to hide a smile creeping into his face against his will." Come, Cadrim, I'll show you the way back to your dorm. Where do you come from?" The templar saw that the kid was frightened and wanted to cheer him up by small talk.  
"From Honnleath, ser." That explained the familiar accent. Cullen realized he hadn't heard from home for years. And the boy, he reminded him so much of his own brother, who was exactly ten years old when Cullen left for the templar training. Where were his siblings now? What would he tell them should they meet? Could this boy know anything about his family? Cullen wanted to ask a lot of questions, but he stopped himself. He had already left home and family behind, he wouldn’t let it distract him from his duty now.  
Silently they made their way to the Apprentice dormitories. Having handed the child to the mages, Cullen returned slowly to his room. He doubted that his life was going in the right direction. But he had vowed to serve the Chantry, so his choice was made long ago. He was not to question that choice again.  
Still, despite all his efforts Cullen couldn't help thinking about his family. He had nearly died before in an attempt to protect the people from the dangers of magic, but who were to protect them? The thought of his homeland attacked by the darkspawn... Cullen balled his hands into fists in painful and helpless anger.  
After he calmed down, the memory of his brother made him want to look through his things again. Where was the lucky coin he gave Cullen then? It was silly, but still… He panicked, realizing he had not seen it for some time.  
He went through all his drawers, but found nothing. He started to root in his already packed items, dragging them out and throwing them around himself in a hurried search. Nothing, and the backpack was already completely empty.  
And then he remembered. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the scattered things, he felt for the small money-bag. Taking it in one hand, he loosened the knot of it with the fingers of the other one and turning it upside down, he emptied it in his palm by shaking it violently.  
Among the money that he threw away there was a smaller bag of cloth, which he took and repeated his actions again. With shaking, the lucky coin made its way out, landing on his palm. Cullen felt his spirit rising in a moment, when some other thing followed from the small cloth bag.  
Cool to touch and so small and elegant that it was hard to believe it was the work of a man, the golden ring with the Amell crest, similar to that he had just seen on the map, lay there in his hand.  
_‘Amell,’_ he thought. And suddenly it was as clear as day: she was real, she existed, it had all truly happened. Cullen ran his hand over his face.  
But he took a better hold on himself. _‘Yes, that happened. Let this thing remind you where it all led you. Let it never happen again.’_ He said sternly to himself.  
He had to pack again, and swiftly. The Kirkwall Circle awaited him, and the Order needed his service. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sad chapter, and it is really hard for me to write about Cullen's suffering.  
> But nevertheless I hope you enjoyed it.  
> More chapters are on their way!


	4. But While We Live, We'll Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Dragon Age II have already happened, and now the Conclave is gathering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that the Conclave's organization could be similar to the one of the scientific conference. To facilitate the process of discussing matters, the participants exchange their opinions in advance, writing and publishing them in the brief form of theses, collected together in what's called the book of theses (or the book of abstracts).

The rider dismounted and continued walking on foot while holding his mount by the bridle. He was wearing simple leather armor, allowing him to ride comfortably, but from his weapon and shield as well as his posture an eye of the experienced warrior would undoubtedly guess that he was a templar.  
He was fascinated by the view which opened to him as he approached slowly. Dozens of dozens of camp tents extended so far that the farthest of them were merely a blur to his view. He could swear he had never seen such a large templar camp in all his life. Of course, there was a reason why he had arrived and why so many of his brothers and sisters from both Ferelden and Orlais were gathered there. They were all attending the Conclave of Most Holy, Divine Justinia.  
Certainly some formal procedures were in order and our templar let his horse be taken by a servant and waited patiently in line of people to register his arrival. He was tired and weary after a many days' journey, but as all of them, he devoted all his life to military training and service, thus being stoic and modest.  
"Cullen! Is that you?" A loud and hearty voice came. The templar turned his head to see a stout and tall man waving his hand. The man who called him was redheaded and had a neatly cut beard. Cullen was not sure if he recognized the man correctly. "Ryan?"  
"Yeah, it's me. Maker, am I glad to see you!" Ryan was his fellow templar, whom he shared quarters with back in their youth. They were friends at that time and even started their service together at Kinloch Hold, but soon after Ryan was transferred to Orlais, out of his own volition, as the redheaded templar was always convinced that his career would be more of a success nearer to the imperial court.  
"Come, you'll register later. There are fewer people in the mornings. Have you just arrived?" Ryan came closer and they shook hands.  
Cullen nodded. He could definitely put aside that registration for tomorrow. The sun had almost set.  
"Come, I'll show you around. Guess you must be hungry and all, let's have dinner together."  
"I'm very glad to see you too." Cullen said and he really meant it. He didn't have many friends around recently. They started walking towards a large tent underneath which the local camp tavern was situated.  
Ryan seemed to be eager to know everything about his comrade's life since they parted.  
"So, how are the things getting on, eh? You know that I've written you several letters, but the reply never came? Too busy to answer good old Ryan, aren't we?" He poked Cullen lightly, but the latter was so tired and caught off guard that he swayed and lost his balance, grasping Ryan's hand not to fall.  
"Hold on!" Ryan laughed. "O-ho! What's this? Are you married?" He pointed to the golden ring that Cullen wore on a lace on his neck and that probably freed itself from under the clothes as he almost fell down before. It was a usual way for warriors to wear the wedding ring as their hands were not suited for that task.  
"What? No!" Cullen replied quickly. The idea of marriage never crossed his mind. "It's just... um, a souvenir".  
"And I am," Ryan declared proudly, "also to no less than a niece of Marquis de Montsimmard himself."  
"Oh." Cullen didn't know how to react. It seemed odd to him how people still found their simple pleasures in life.  
"We have one child, a boy. A witty fellow and you should hear him speak Orlesian! You would laugh like a madman... Well, here we are."  
They reached the tavern and seated themselves. Ryan ordered some bread and meat and beer and leaned back on his chair.  
"So, you serve at Montsimmard?" Cullen asked."Sorry about your letters, though I never received them. During the Blight, things got bad at Kinloch Hold, and the Circle was nearly annulled. And then... Then I was transferred to Kirkwall, which you probably didn't know." Cullen sighed wearily, the memory of Kirkwall never failing to bring him down.  
"Yes, I ended up in the Montsimmard's Circle." Ryan replied. "I'm a Knight-Captain, and I am here accompanying our Senior Enchanter." He looked at his friend attentively, noticing the black circles under his eyes and far too early wrinkles on his forehead. "I heard about Kirkwall. Was it really that bad?"  
"Whatever you heard, the truth is far worse. But, I would prefer not to speak about it, not now at least." Their food and drinks came and for some time their mouths were busy with biting and chewing. Then Cullen continued. "So, if you're accompanying your Senior Enchanter, then why are you here and not... well, accompanying? I mean, by his side?" Cullen was curious.  
Ryan only smiled and waved a hand in a denying gesture. "First, it's her. Second, I'm only accompanying her on the road here and back. Mages live separately, there," he pointed to his right, "in that stone building. There are enough templars watching them, and I personally don't mind a vacation." He ended in a light tone.  
"Originally, it was our First Enchanter, Madame de Fer, Lady Vivienne, who was invited here. But, she's too busy at court, so she sent one of our Seniors instead." Ryan elaborated. "And I don't mind, for our lady Amell is much more agreeable person than Madame de Fer, I would say."  
"A-Amell?" Cullen couldn't hide his surprise and interest.  
"Yes, Senior Enchanter Amell. I personally am quite fond of her, such a kind soul and manners...You could sometimes think she was nobility."  
"She is." Cullen blurted out.  
"Pardon?"  
"I-I mean... Amells are a noble family in Kirkwall, I know that as I served there. I was... am a Knight-Commander there, in fact." He added, to distract attention from his previous unwanted revelation. He sipped of his drink nervously.  
"Never mind." Ryan seemed to not have noticed anything suspicious or didn't care. "Lady Amell volunteered to come here, as she wanted to express some ideas of her own regarding mages and templars. They are not very traditional, but Lady Vivienne allows her some freedom, apparently. Why, I don't know, but I guess our First Enchanter seeks to gather all the Loyalist mages under her rule, so accepts some of their curiosities." Ryan was relaxed and carefree.  
"What ideas do you mean?" Cullen couldn't stop himself from asking. He wondered if they spoke about the same person.  
"Well, I don't know for sure... You can read for yourself in the book they give you after registering. You know, the collection of all the proposals to get acquainted with them in advance. Under the 'M' for the Montsimmard Circle." Ryan stretched himself and yawned. "But it's late and you're tired. We'd better go get some sleep. Come, you can share with me as back then."  
Cullen didn't resist.

* * *

He awoke at dawn as a result of many years habit. Ryan was still snoring next to him. Quietly, Cullen left the tent and walked outside. His friend was right, and he registered himself without any delay. He also received a book Ryan mentioned yesterday; a book that listed all the suggestions to be discussed at the Conclave. Cullen turned the pages impatiently till he found her.  
"Lady Solona Amell, Senior Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle." It was definitely her.  
"Oh Maker." For the last few years he questioned himself what was real. The never-ending nightmare which his life was got him doubting if she ever was there in his life or it was only a demonic vision. Her ring was the only thing that reminded him that it all happened in reality. After he found it he went a long way from hating and blaming her to the realization that he was the only one to blame among them both. Although he could not forget that it was her who lied to him, and why, he had to find out.  
He took the ring off and laid it on his palm. Watching it shine in the morning light, he silently prayed to Maker to guide him and show him the right path.  
"The early bird gets the worm, eh?" Ryan called from his back and Cullen was fast to shove the ring into his pocket. "Already registered? Told you it was easier in the morning."  
Cullen turned to his friend. "Good morning, Ryan."  
"Do you like the book? I personally find it rather boring."  
"In fact, it's quite interesting, I should say. I've read the theses of your Enchanter Amell, by the way, the ones you were speaking about yesterday. They are... unusual. I would like to discuss them with her if you don't object." Cullen never thought he could be lying so easily, but here he was, and it came out so naturally.  
"I'll be happy to introduce you two!" Ryan answered enthusiastically. "I'm sure you'll like her."  
"Come, she must be there, in mages' cloister somewhere." He showed the direction.  
They reached the mages building and came in greeted by the templars guarding the entrance. Then they proceeded through the vast hall into the inner cloister where small groups of mages stood chatting with each other.  
"There!" pointed Ryan, and hurried himself through the garden. Cullen followed him and his heart was beating wildly.  
She was standing with her back to him as they approached. Wearing a fancy Orlesian dress instead of robes (Vivienne insisted!) that went loosely on her shoulders, her hair braided into a complex hairstyle opening her neck she looked simply gorgeous.  
"Enchanter Amell, a moment of your time, if you could?" Ryan called out politely.  
"For you, my dear Knight-Captain, always." She turned with a charming smile on her face. "What is it?"  
"Meet my old friend, now Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, ser Cullen," Ryan pulled him closer by the arm, "who got interested in your mage-templar ideas and wanted to discuss them with you personally."  
She turned to Cullen and by her sudden blanch, he knew instantly that she recognized him. But she managed to compose herself. "How do you do, Knight-Commander. It is a pleasure to have an audience on the other side too."  
Cullen only bowed his head not sure that his voice would not betray him.  
"I'm sure our discussion can wait a bit, Knight-Commander. I'm in the middle of something right now, and I-"  
He came closer and whispered so that only she could hear. "You owe me an explanation, Amell, and I will have it now."  
She turned around to find out that Ryan was gone somewhere. She saw him walking away with a younger templar: "A message for you, ser," the latter handed a package to Ryan.  
She turned back only to find Cullen still towering over her, his face determined. "Come outside, there we'll be able to speak more freely," he commanded, "I will follow you."  
To his surprise, she obeyed, and having excused herself from her company headed gracefully to the exit of the inner garden to end up in the deserted corridor that circled the cloister.  
He followed without delay, and when she stopped to look back, he was just beside her. His gaze was locked on her. Maker, he forgot how beautiful she was, and now she was dressed like a queen, and as a queen she held herself. "You wanted to discuss something, Knight-Commander?" Her voice was cold and tone defensive as she broke the silence between them.  
He felt his hand touch the ring in his pocket and he took it out, showing the ring to her.  
"Why did you lie to me?" Pain was in his eyes. "I've found this, and I believe it belongs to you." He took her left hand gently and put the ring on her finger. After that he couldn't make himself let her hand go.  
She wanted to retort with something unpleasant, but the warm touch of his hand left her speechless, so she only stared at him waiting what would come next.  
"You wanted me to forget." He continued quietly, "but I remember everything now".  
She was finally able to speak. "The question is, Cullen, what do you remember?"  
"Everything," he repeated. "I recall how I first met you, how we first talked to each other, how we prayed together the night before your Harrowing and how you gave me your ring afterwards." He sighed and she felt him squeezing her fingers tighter. "I remember this," he lifted her hand and kissed it lightly, just like he did back then.  
Solona felt it was hard for her to breathe and she inhaled the air briskly, but he continued as if he was afraid that in a moment she would disappear like a dream.  
"I remember that we met again, and I accused you of awful things, you, the most innocent and wonderful woman I've ever known!.. Oh, Maker, I was not myself, I was... a monster... I know I hurt you." He shook his head, placing a hand over his face.  
"Would you ever forgive me?" He whispered.  
He didn't look at her or he would see in her eyes that he was long ago forgiven. So when she spoke again, he didn't at first catch her tone: "I could," she spoke thoughtfully, "if-"  
"If?" he gasped, as if she was deciding whether he would live or not.  
"If you kissed me more."  
Cullen lifted up his head, eyes wide with surprise. Still, she didn't have to ask him twice, and cupping her face softly with his hands, he placed a kiss on her lips. At first it was shy and insecure but soon he was overwhelmed by the feelings running through him. Cullen was too involved to notice how she failed to follow him, gasping for air, as he continued to cover her face all over with small kisses, then on her neck, and down, until he reached the borderline of her low cut dress.  
"Cullen!"  
He interrupted himself reluctantly and raised his head to look at her. She was blushing severely, her face confused and embarrassed.  
"What are you doing?" she exhaled.  
Now he was confused. "I am kissing you, just as you wanted of me." He certainly didn't get it and was worried he did something wrong, got her wrong. "Why?"  
"I-I thought you w-would kiss my hand as before." She stuttered.  
Cullen grinned, not being able to explain himself why he was so pleased by having such an effect on her. He leaned forward, pressing himself against her and running his nose up her neck: "You didn't specify that." He whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her skin.  
Solona felt shivering deep inside as her earlobe was touched by something warm and wet. "Am I forgiven yet?" His voice came into her ear again.  
But now she was in the game and she was never the one to surrender quickly.  
"For that," she put her arms around his neck, "you should try harder." Her voice was victorious.  
Caught unaware, he leaned back to look at her. She was smiling at him; her eyes narrowed, giving her face a what-will-you-do-next expression.  
"I could," he started, mocking her phrase from earlier, "if-"  
He paused and with a smile curling up the corners of his mouth started trailing his finger alongside the border of her dress. He watched her closely as she followed his finger with her eyes, her lips slightly parted and holding a breath.  
"If?" She let out at last.  
He looked into her eyes placing his hands on her shoulders. And though the desire flickered dangerously in his eyes, these were the eyes of Cullen she remembered: soft, sincere and tender.  
"If you let me." He put simply.  
"Cullen, do you really have to ask?" she exclaimed, and in reply his lips were again on hers, and that kiss was not gentle anymore, but intense, demanding,...  
Suddenly he became fully aware of the fact how she could not follow him, how she tried not to forget to breathe, how her moves were clumsy and insecure.  
Cullen stepped back again looking at her with suspicion in his eyes.  
"Solona," he started softly, her name so unusual for him to speak out loud, "tell me, have you ever kissed before?"  
She blushed again: "I-I..."  
Cullen tenderly caressed her cheek with his hand. Maker, she was hot to touch.  
"Maker's breath, Solona, are you a virgin?!"  
"Of course not! " She looked surprised. "Does it really matter to you?"  
"No, but I... I didn't mean to-I, um... I-" Cullen was unsure what to say.  
Solona stopped him, putting a hand on his lips and smiling: "If I seem unsure it's only because we're standing here in public and we wouldn't want to be seen like this, would we?"  
Cullen felt like he was put under a cold shower: "You are absolutely right. And I'm so-"  
"Shh." She caressed his cheek lovingly. "If you say you're sorry for what you've just done, I'm totally going to kick you."  
"And I suggest we continue our ‘discussion’ later," she added, taking the advantage of his silence, "tonight in my room. Come, I'll show you the way so you can find it later." And she passed by him brushing her body against his, and started walking.  
Cullen watched her go but didn't move. Did she just-? Did she really propose spending a night together? This quick? The thought made his heart beating wildly and his reasoning was clouded.  
"Are you coming or not?" She stopped in a distance and called, realizing he was not following.  
Cullen nodded and hurried to come up to her. She was smiling victoriously and waiting for him. And they started walking together, sometimes casting glances at each other but pretending they're just acquaintances, nothing more.  
"So, Cullen." She started. "You're Knight-Commander now, right? That's quite an achievement. Tell me more about yourself, about how you have been all these years."  
"There's not much I can tell you." Cullen was apparently speaking with an effort. "Nothing good, I guess. I'm just not ready to talk about all that happened yet... I'd rather we talked about you, instead. If you don't mind." She heard the immense pain in his words, and trying to comfort him, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Cullen squeezed her hand back in acknowledgement.  
"All right," she replied lightheartedly, "what would you like to know?"  
"Why Montsimmard? And why no-one could find you?"  
"I was not hiding," she was surprised. "Did anyone look for me? What for?"  
Cullen was not sure if he had the right to tell her about the plans of giving rebirth to the Inquisition and about the searching operations Leliana carried out for both Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall. "Just wondering. I think all the Fereldans would be glad to have you; surely they'd try to reach you. Why Orlais?"  
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's as simple as it is. After the Blight, I took the mission of rebuilding the Wardens. You can't just recruit that many people. I decided to contact the Orlesian wardens for help. I know, Cullen," she looked at him with a worried expression, "that many Fereldans look at Orlais with prejudice and distrust, but among the Wardens the tension is lesser. We have no discrimination against nation, race or gender."  
Cullen nodded in agreement. Everyone knew that the refusal to ask Orlais for help during the Blight had nearly destroyed Ferelden.  
"I arrived at their headquarters in Montsimmard and arranged that a pack of Senior Wardens would come to Amaranthine to serve as tutors for the new recruits. But then I realized I wanted to go to Circle. I was tired of Warden business, and during my journeys I have learned so much new, the things I could never even imagine. I wanted to study, to read, to learn. I applied to the Montsimmard Circle and they agreed to have me. First Enchanter Vivienne was very kind to me."  
"So what do you study?" asked Cullen, glad to get his thoughts away from Kirkwall rebellion, away from everything that troubled him. If just for a moment, it was bliss.  
She stopped, turning her face to him and looking puzzled. "I thought you wanted to discuss my study. You said you've read my theses. Wait a moment? You lied to me!" She jokingly poked him in the chest.  
Cullen looked as an apprentice who had not prepared his homework. But Solona laughed heartily and he smiled shyly in reply.  
"I study lots of things. History, languages, magic. But lately I was occupied with finding the ways to lessen the tension between mages and templars. After everything I witnessed, I tried my best to put all the knowledge I had to use on this subject. Sadly, all of it would hardly be used, I guess, as the war had already started." She sighed." As Tevinters said once, _inter arma enim silent leges_."  
"Here, to the stairs," she pointed to the arch that served as an entrance to the tower in the corner of the building and hosted a spiral staircase in it. "My room is on the first floor."  
They entered, and their eyes were uncomfortable with the darkness. The staircase was lit only by the small windows in the walls of the tower, and under the first turning of the stairs twilight filled the space.  
Suddenly he felt that she was dragging him into that space, pulling him by the hand she was still holding. In a brief moment Cullen found himself pushed against the wall by her, wondering what was going on.  
Solona placed her hands on the wall by his sides, leaning close to him. "Got you!" She giggled like a girl.  
"What is this all about?" He inquired tenderly, not being able to suppress a smile. He could barely see her even as close as she was, but he felt her, warm and soft, and it was unbelievable.  
"Close your eyes." She asked. "Please, Cullen." She spoke his name with such care and affection, that he gave in. All that he wanted at that moment was just to sink in her caress, forget about the entire world around them. So he closed his eyes and it was so easy to pretend that there was no war, no death out there.  
And when he did, Solona moved her hands so that one of them was placed over his heart and another on the back of his head, and then she lifted to her toes to kiss him.  
She touched his lips with hers, softly and lightly. Her kiss was slow and tender, wrapping him in her loving care, as if trying to recompense all the years that they were parted, all the time he was suffering, all the nights he rested sleepless because of nightmares, all the days that were filled with dull pain and fruitless anger.  
Cullen felt relaxed like he hasn't been in years. He felt the joy and hope filling him inside, his heart and mind cleared and soothed. He felt younger, rejuvenated, refreshed, strange energy running through all his body.  
When she broke the kiss finally, he opened his eyes to stare at her in wonder.  
"What was it? Magic?"  
Solona shook her head. "You know, Cullen, that it was not."  
And she was right. He felt it, but couldn't believe it. How was it even possible?  
"Tell me how you feel." She studied his face impatiently.  
"I feel... actually, I am fine. In fact, I haven't felt so right for a long time. And... It reminded me of something." He selected the words slowly as if he was trying to concentrate on his feelings.  
"Please, continue." Solona encouraged him.  
"That will require a brief explanation. When you train as a templar, at first you go through combat training as well as study history and language. When you reach the required level as a warrior you pass on to the templar abilities training."  
Cullen stopped as if remembering his youth, before he took the vows.  
"This training includes the exercises to learn how to control your will and mind. You don't have mages to practice, you see, so you spar with your fellow templars. And that's why you practice not offensive abilities like Holy Smite which you study in theory, but the abilities improving ones like Blessed Blades."  
"The first thing you learn is a simple stamina-regenerative ability that's called Bless. It's rather simple and not very effective compared to more complex techniques because it requires the direct physical contact, so the templars do not use it later when they are fully trained. But the apprentices do. I almost forgot the feeling of it, I think. It was so long ago."  
Cullen sighed and then looked straight into her eyes trying to find an answer there. "What you just did… It was unmistakable. It was Bless. But how you could perform that, I fail to understand."  
Solona clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Then you prove it! I did it! I did!"  
"Come, I will explain." She returned to the stairs and started climbing up.  
"I was studying the history of Chantry, when the idea struck my mind. Anyone can become a templar, right?"  
"Any warrior, yes." Cullen nodded, following her on the stairs.  
"The templars protect the mages and from the mages because the mages are vulnerable to demon mind control. To do that, they are trained to protect their own mind. So then I thought: why was it so that the most susceptible to damage are stripped of the means of protection? Aren't they like the warriors that have the sword, but neither shield nor armor?"  
"I hypothesized that mages can be trained to acquire the mental focus and mind magic resistance, like the templars. I found all the books on the matter and taught myself the simplest ability you spoke of before."  
Cullen was watching her in amazement. She was determined and serious and spoke with passion about her work.  
"The only thing I needed was an experimental proving. And that I just got, as you confirmed it. The experiment was successful." She stated victoriously.  
"The experiment? You were conducting an experiment on me?"  
Solona looked embarrassed. She didn't think of it that way, but now she realized that what she had done was highly unethical to put it mildly.  
"I- Yes, and I apologize. I mean, Cullen, I'm so sorry, but you have to understand, sometimes the researcher has to go at any lengths to find the truth."  
"Don't be." He replied quietly. "You must know that I've never felt anything like this blessing kiss." He pulled her towards himself, kissing her brow softly.  
"Oh." She was relieved that he was not mad at her. "So, want to do it again? Maybe you could do the same to me this time?" She asked in playful manner.  
Cullen seemed to be baffled with this innocent request. "I... could, maybe. But no, I won't."  
"Why? Are you not the one to please the woman like she pleases you?" She teased.  
Cullen faltered. "I... I just don't want to do any of it anymore."  
"Any of what?" She was distressed by the sudden change in his mood. Cullen seemed uneasy, tensed, troubled.  
"Any of the templar abilities. I'm going to leave the Order, and that decision is final." He stated sternly.  
Solona was so shocked that for a moment she watched him speechless, her mouth opened in surprise.  
"What? Can one do that? I thought the vows were lifelong."  
"I just don't want to be a part of that life anymore. I'm here to report to Lord Seeker to be relieved of my duty."  
"Cullen! Are you sure? It was the meaning of your life, remember?" She still couldn't believe.  
"I said that my decision was final, didn't I?" He asked frowning. "Many things had changed, Solona." He added more calmly.  
She only blinked at him. They were almost near her door, and she started to look for the key in her handbag. The small thing kept evading her fingers and she couldn't concentrate. After some time she found Cullen looking at her worried: "Are you alright?" She realized that she was unstable and leaning on him for support.  
"I guess, it's only a headache. And I can't find the stupid key," she complained.  
"But here it is, in your hand," Cullen pointed out.  
"Oh. Right. Please help me get into my room, I need to lie down and rest I think. I must be exhausted from that Bless."  
She tried to convince herself it was really so. But deep inside she knew it wasn't. That familiar feeling in her mind, she knew too well what it was. The Calling. Though feeble and faint, it was still unmistakable. Her mind screamed as the dragon roared.  
Cullen opened the door, and put her on the bed, sitting himself at the end of it. He would not leave until he was sure she was alright.  
After some time she opened her eyes and gave a loud breath. Whatever it was that gave that feeling it got away. She sat beside him. "I'm well. Don't worry." She smiled, touching his hand and intertwining her fingers with his.  
"Good." Cullen smiled back. "I was worried: you nearly passed out."  
"Oh, it's not worth even mentioning," she waved her hand, "please let's talk of something else."  
"All right." He agreed, turning to face her. She did the same and they were both sitting on their knees in front of each other, having taken their shoes off.  
"You're so beautiful; I just can't get enough looking at you." Cullen confessed, placing his hands on her waist. "You are like a goddess."  
She smiled contentedly, flattered by his words. "Do you like the dress?"  
"I guess I do. Some things I would give Orlesians credit for." Cullen laughed.  
Solona leaned in, reaching his ear to whisper a question: "Tell me, what you would prefer on me: the dress like this one, the robes or armor?"  
Cullen was overwhelmed by the feeling induced by the pictures of her in his mind amplified by her closeness and intimacy of her bedroom. "I think... armor."  
She looked at him in astonishment. "Armor? Why?"  
"I don't know. Maybe, I'm just more used to it."  
"Oh, so you're used to women in armor? I should guess so. And maybe you're used to removing their armor as well?" She asked and her intonation made his guts perform a somersault.  
Cullen felt he was blushing as if he was again eighteen.  
"What-? No, nothing like that! I meant-"  
She laughed and kissed his cheeks one after another. "I would prefer armor too, mind you. I hate skirts."  
"You do? Well I recall you dreamt to be a lady once. You cannot be one without a skirt." Cullen was so amused by that conversation, like he never was before.  
"Oh, so you're a skirt apologetic, right? I guess you should be. You've been wearing one almost all your life."  
"It's not a skirt, lady!" Cullen knew that mages’ legend said that templars had nothing under that 'skirt', but he never thought she would repeat it. Nevertheless he was lighthearted, and for once he didn't care for that mage-templar thing. "At least I'm not the one who hates his own dreams."  
"I didn't have the time to tell you everything then, Cullen. I did like the tales of ladies in fancy dresses and knights in shining armor, and I did dream to be a lady sometimes. But sometimes, I also wanted to be the knight myself, the one that rights wrong and helps poor, that kind, you know." She looked into his eyes, her face radiating with inspiration.  
"So you would have your own lady then?" He asked. The affection with which Leliana spoke of Hero of Ferelden didn't escape his attention.  
"Oh no," she replied merrily, "I'm not the ladies’ lady, if you get what I mean."  
She continued: "No, I would just be a knight, fighting evil and things like that. What I didn't know, is that I would meet another knight, who would be so likeminded that we would travel together in our quest of good."  
"And that knight, would he be your friend?" Cullen asked.  
"I guess he would, for some time." She replied softly and thoughtfully. "Until he would kiss my hand and steal my heart." The last words she spoke were very serious and earnest, and her gaze was locked on him once more.  
"What do you mean by that?" he asked quietly, taking her hands into his to kiss them one after another.  
"I mean, I love you, Cullen." Her words went warm and clear.  
"I love you too, Solona." His voice echoed hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of this chapter is a line taken from a beautiful Queen song called "Las Palabras de Amor". It's been an inspiration.
> 
> The phrase "Inter arma enim silent leges" is a Latin one that means "In times of war, the law falls silent." I headcanon that Tevinters spoke Latin, and of course Amell is very well-read and educated to know and use things like that:)
> 
> Her Calling is not a true one, but the one faked by Corypheus, who is approaching the place of Conclave and also testing his powers on Wardens in order to use them at the Conclave later.


	5. So Sad It Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued just from where the previous chapter ended: the Conclave takes place, and then the Inquisition starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like ratings and warnings, but here I should put one: the end of the chapter is dark, there's a major character death.

They sat holding hands and staring at each other after their mutual confession. It was truly unbelievable. How was it possible that they both had carried their youthful affection carefully through all those dark times when even their survival was in question? How could they still be in the same place when they were no longer the same people they were when they fell in love?  
Still, they were there, together and caring for each other. Cullen was the first one to break the silence, speaking her name fondly and running his hand over her head and shoulder. She leaned forward, burying her face in his chest, smiling and making small quiet laughing sounds. She moved her legs to the sides of his knees, sitting gracefully on his lap then, and circling her hands over his shoulders.  
"Cullen!" She lifted her head to bring her mouth to his ear. "I'm thinking... Maybe we shouldn't wait for tonight?"  
With her so close, Cullen was balancing on the edge not to submit to his desires and forget about everything but the scent of her hair, the softness of her touch and the way she tried to push even more into him at that very moment. Yet, he was still aware of the circumstances they were in, so he replied: "Are you sure? I bet both of us have the schedule planned for this day, and so-"  
He was interrupted by her kiss, brief and hasty, while she ran her fingers through his hair leaving it in a mess. After withdrawing from it, she caught his hand and placed it over her heart, pressing it with her own. Cullen felt his blood set aflame as his hand touched her bare skin at the décolleté of her dress.  
Solona looked into his eyes, her own blue ones almost dark as her pupils widened. "Do you feel the beating of my heart? Can you really deny this heart its desire?"  
He couldn't, of course. She felt being lifted gently by his hands cupping her bottom and placed carefully on her back, with him following slowly to lie on top of her.  
She closed her eyes sinking in her tactile sensations. How wonderfully heavy he was on her, how delightfully safe and protected she felt under him, hedged from the cold and cruel world by his broad frame.  
He shifted a bit to the side kissing her neck tenderly and inhaling loudly. Her sweet moaning sounds sent shivers down his spine and she felt his lips smile against her skin.

The sudden knock on the door made them both freeze as they were.  
It was followed by the voice, sounding familiar to both of them: "Solona? Enchanter Amell? Are you in there? I've been looking for you everywhere!"  
Solona answered, concentrating to sound calm:"Yes, I'm here. I felt not well, a headache, and I had to lie down for a bit. I'm better now. Is that you, Petra?"  
"Yes, that's me. I wanted to tell you that your petition for the Divine's audience was granted. It is today and soon, and don't forget you've promised me that I can come with you! I'll be waiting for you there by the door of her cabinet. Come swiftly!"  
And they heard the steps faded away.

They finally were able to take a breath, and sat up side by side. "It was Petra," she explained, "from the Ferelden Circle, you must remember her." Cullen nodded.  
"I must go. I couldn't hope that Divine Justinia would agree to hear me out."  
They readjusted their clothes and put on their shoes, then stood up, and Solona looked out to check that the way was empty of the unwanted witnesses for him to leave. Before she let him go, she tugged gently his elbow: "Will you come tonight?"  
"Certainly I will," Cullen replied, kissing her briefly and leaving. And to her, that kiss felt like a promise of so much more.

* * *

When he returned later that day, the sun had already set. As he was walking up the stairs the thrill of anticipation made his hair stick up. The door of her room was left slightly open. She was waiting for him, and just that thought made his chest tense.  
Cullen entered quietly, closing the door after him. She was standing with her back to him, staring at the window where the remnants of the red sunset were still illuminating the sky and the mountains.  
As he approached her, he noticed she was wearing a white cotton blouse and breeches in the place of the Orlesian dress. Her hair was braided in one loose and long braid, completing her look of someone ready to go to sleep.  
Cullen circled his hands around her waist from behind, putting his head on her shoulder. "Solona."  
She turned around, tensed and uneasy, her face wearing a worried expression.  
"What's wrong, my love?" Cullen inquired, taken by surprise with her mood.  
"Have you seen the Lord Seeker yet?" She asked, her voice sharp and anxious.  
"No," he shook his head, "I didn't have the chance because of his availability at the moment."  
She seemed to be relieved. "That's good. Cullen, you have to leave immediately!" She freed herself from his embrace to walk nervously back and forth.  
"I encountered him today while I was waiting for the Divine audience. He walked out of her cabinet, angry and irritated beyond measure. I heard him exchanging a few words with the Most Holy's clerics, and the things he said... I would not believe that unless I heard it myself, Cullen!"  
She stopped to sit down on a chair, sighed wearily, and continued. "He accused the Chantry of failing the task of controlling the mages. The templars would be led by the Seekers, he said. They would alone stand against all the evil forces that are tearing Thedas apart at the moment, that's his plan. And those responsible would be brought to justice in line with the laws of wartime. The man is obsessed with power!"  
Cullen also sat down on a couch. It was hard for him to digest all the information poured onto him.  
"Do you think they will just let you go now?" She asked dryly. "Didn't you consider that not everyone thinks that you have restored order in Kirkwall? That many may consider you, as your previous Knight-Commander is dead, the one responsible for the rebellion not stopped from the start? Don't you think they will need a scapegoat to put the blame on? To justify their methods of bringing the mages back to the Circles?"  
Cullen felt dizzy. The matter of Kirkwall finally made its way into their conversation. "I never said that everything I did in Kirkwall was right. I made mistakes, and I will answer for that." He said sternly. "I will accept any punishment that the Chantry's justice finds suitable."  
She jumped up, startled. "Only it won't be Chantry! And it won't be justice! Do you not hear what I'm telling you?"  
She stepped up to him, determined and troubled. "No. You can't do this to me. You are not alone now to decide on your own. You have to leave, now. Please, Cullen!.. " Her intonation went into pleading.  
"If you really want to leave the Order, leave now," she repeated fervently. Solona noticed that he was not impressed by her words, staring at her worried and unbelieving. She had to persuade him, to save him from the terrible fate of a falsely accused one, the fate she knew too well herself.  
"They may arrest you! And Maker only knows what will come next... Cullen, listen to me! I ask you, I beg you, you have to go now, now-" She cried.  
"Now calm down!" Cullen commanded, a bit surprised himself that his voice came out louder than he intended it to. Solona watched him with widened eyes, silenced by her own surprise at his tone.  
"I'm-Forgive me, I didn't mean to shout," Cullen added hastily. "I just don't get the reason of you being so worked up. Please, take a seat," and they both sat down on a couch. Then he continued: "Do you really want me to flee in the night, like a rogue, just because you've heard someone say something in a heat of a moment? Lord Seeker has to be very distressed, I presume, and I understand him. This war is not going as planned."  
_Planned._ There was so much planned you couldn't know, she thought. She glanced at him, her heart being stung with guilt. She had not told him all the truth about her mission at the Conclave. Her task was to gather as much information as she could on the mages moods, as well as prepare the ground to make more allies among their ranks. For Lady Vivienne had her own informants in the Templar Order and she knew about the frustration with Chantry and suffering of being undervalued circling in it. Madame de Fer feared that the templars, at least some of them, might try to rebel and leave the Chantry. Then she planned to propose mages service to the Chantry in order to replace those who left, negotiating in return for the support in the civil war that raged through Orlais. 

_**How high the level of distrust and suspicion must have been at the Conclave, that its atmosphere prevented both Cullen and Solona from revealing their true intentions. They had expressed love for each other earlier, but still she was keeping silence about the Templars breaking from the Chantry, and he said nothing about the Inquisition plan. How could anyone even hope that the Conclave would yield a positive result? Yet they all hoped.** _

Solona couldn't tell him everything, but still she had to warn him. "Lord Seeker is definitely not just someone, and the words he said, he did so in a cold blood. And Divine Justinia was also very distressed. Just think - she had asked me - me, a mage, - to stand by her side, to raise my voice against the war! She looked as if she didn't trust anyone, didn't feel the power to quench the fire of vengeance burning between mages and templars... There seems to be no end to this revenge from both sides, so you are in danger!" She sighed. She couldn't make him listen to her advice. She did all she could.  
"The High Conclave starts tomorrow, taking place in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The security measures will be enforced to an unprecedented level. You wouldn't be able to leave unnoticed." She added in calmer, but tired voice.

Cullen was considering over and over again everything that she had told him, and with time it seemed more and more reasonable to him. He had to admit that she was right from the start, even more than she would know, taking the Inquisition into account. And it was only his reluctance to leave her at that moment, his heart's desire to stay by her side that was interfering with his reasoning, preventing him from thinking clearly. Could he really risk his life and freedom now, when he had already sworn to lead the Inquisition military forces should the Conclave fail to produce a peace treaty?

He stood up, determined at last, every doubt washed away from his regard and his mind. "I'm sorry. You were totally right, and I have to go now, as much as I hate it. Maybe it would be best if I hadn't come at all in the first place. Maybe it would be kinder to both of us if I didn't."  
"No." She also stood up, but didn't close the distance between them. "Don't say that." She shook her head. "These moments shared with you, I would not trade them for anything."  
"As wouldn't I," he replied. "And I promise, that no matter what comes next, I will come back to you, I will find you again."  
She said nothing more, watching him go. She had his word, and it was enough to carry on.

* * *

Cullen walked out and headed to the templar camp to collect his equipment. But on a second thought, he decided not to risk the chance to encounter Ryan and face any need of an explanation, so he took the alternative path to the stables. That path made its way through a small grove and round the camp. Surrounded by the trees, far from the noise of the camp, he felt at peace despite all his misfortunes. He always liked the quiet escapes in natural refuges. He let himself stop for a moment, leaning on a tree stem and clearing his head. While he stood, his eyes wandered around, fascinated by the mysterious glow of the snow in the dark of the night. The white color seemed to give it some brightness and radiance even though the sunlight was all gone by then.  
White and contrasted by the dark leafless trees was the silhouette approaching him at a great speed. Cullen only had the time to turn in its direction when it was near, and... And it was Solona who jumped onto him, putting her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.  
Time passed, but she didn't let go, clinging to him with all her force. He could only hold her gently, afraid that she could fall down. After the first shock passed, he asked: "Have you changed your mind?"  
"No, but I can't let you go away like this. We still have a few hours before the dawn comes." She said, standing back on the ground and pulling away to look at him.  
"We’ll have to find a warmer place," Cullen sounded concerned, "or you'll freeze." She was still wearing her nighttime clothes.  
"Not if I use magic," she smiled, "I can create a barrier that will protect us from cold _and_ sights, if you're alright with it," she added, knowing how much suffering magic brought him and not willing to push through.  
But he smiled in return - that half-shy, half-mischievous smile that curled up one side of his mouth - and nodded lightly: "I think it will be one of the greatest examples of how magic can serve a man."  
And so she walked a full circle around him, and a hemisphere emerged all over them. It was shimmering in milky white and silver, creating their own small and light world. At the same time the snow at their feet melted, and the grass was green as they lowered to sit on it. The air was warm and fresh, filled with the scent of Ferelden wild flowers - the scent that reminded Cullen of his childhood in Honnleath.  
He stared in wonder, fascinated by the sight of Solona covered with the silver light. She seemed unreal.  
Solona sat comfortably next to him and reached out her hand to turn his head gently towards her. After she was sure he was looking at her, she raised her hands to pull off her blouse over her head. "I don't want to wait any longer, Cullen."  
And they lay down together on that fragrant flower bed, and for once they were just a man and a woman.

* * *

"I say, Cullen, you're a damn good lover," she murmured into his ear, curling at his side. "I would never guess this, given your monastic life in the Order."  
Cullen was experiencing the most blissful time in the last years. "I had practice." He answered in a relaxed manner, running his fingers through her hair.  
Solona lifted her head, leaning on her elbows. "Now that's new. Where? In Kirkwall?"  
"Well, yes. You see, Knight-Commander Meredith-"  
"You had sex with your commanding officer?" Her eyes went wide as she sat up in excitement.  
She earned herself a laugh from him, and that was so nice, to hear him laughing and see him smiling.  
"No, of course, not. How could you even imagine that, I wonder?" He replied, using his hand to pull her back to lie by his side. "What I was going to say, is that she sent me to investigate the disappearance of our recruits, and the trail led to the Blooming Rose - I thought it was a tavern, but it turned out to be a brothel, - and there,..." She saw the shade of blush creep onto his cheeks, "I got... involved. I didn't mean to, at first, but... It helped me to get through the darkest years of my life, and I'm ashamed to admit that... You see, my faith had to see me through instead."  
"You're just a man. You don't have to feel bad about that." She said quietly.  
Cullen only embraced her tightly; it felt incredibly good to have someone who understood and supported him. It was so unusual, but it felt so right.  
They both sensed the barrier growing thinner; the magic started to fade away slowly. They felt the air cooling, and though they were still close and hugging each other, they felt the coldness of parting dividing them. So they clothed themselves and got up; they both knew that the time had come. They parted silently, no more in need for the words to be spoken. The pink shade of dawn colored the tops of the mountains as he mounted on a horse to ride away.

Cullen intended to ride for as long as he could, but the weather had its own plans. The wind grew stronger and the snow increased its intensity, so he had no choice but wait for the storm to settle down. Interrupted on his way, he sought refuge in the village of Haven. Having realized that he had not slept the previous night Cullen found a tavern to rent a bed and fell asleep immediately.

He slept well, no sign of a nightmare showing. Still, he didn't feel having got enough rest when he was awoken by someone who was shaking him by the shoulders, harshly and ruthlessly.  
"Wake up, now!" Angry woman's voice came cutting through his still clouded conscience. He opened his eyes, blinking. What hour was it? The clouds covering the sky prevented the sunlight from coming through and it was hard to guess the time of the day. His eyes drifted back to the woman.  
"Seeker Pentaghast?"  
It was indeed Cassandra Pentaghast, and not in a light mood."Cullen, it's good that you're here. How had you found yourself here in Haven?"  
"I was on my way-"  
"To Conclave, of course. I thought so," she finished the sentence for him, "then you should know that you're late. The Conclave is destroyed."  
"Destroyed?" _Destroyed?_ That word hammered through his mind.  
"They were attacked by... we don't know yet by whom. They are all dead, except for one mage." Cassandra was hardly holding her grief and frustrated anger.  
_All dead? One mage?_ A small and tiny hope crawled into his heart. It was foolish and crazy, but... Maker, what if that was her? She had been out of so many narrow escapes before, maybe just one more time?  
"He's held prisoner, and is unconscious, unfortunately. But he's our only suspect and source of information, so once he is back to consciousness, we will have our answers."  
He. It wasn't her. Cullen felt the world blurring around him. She didn't escape this time. How could he have left her there alone? He realized that she had saved his own life, again. All their time together ran through his mind, aching from the impossibility to bring it back. How could he hope for anything good to come out of that relationship? It was doomed right from the start, he thought. Despair and guilt were the only feelings that filled him.  
"Meanwhile, we act according to our plan," added Cassandra, "to rebuild the Inquisition of old."  
The Commander of Inquisition found the power only to nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> The next chapter will be more focused on Cassandra/Trevelyan pairing.
> 
> Although my story is highly AU in many cases, I still try to keep characters in character; could only hope it comes out right.  
> Also, would like to share a screenshot of my warden Amell (arcane warrior) ^_^  
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=292p3jl)


	6. Funny How Love Is Every Song In Every Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevelyan makes friends with Cullen and courts Cassandra.

The next few weeks Cullen was just grateful that the fighting with the demons coming through the Breach in great numbers took all his time. It got his thoughts away from his losses, both private and shared with all the faithful who grieved the Most Holy's loss. Fighting was good, as it granted him the opportunity to wreak his anger on his enemies. But for the rest, their situation was far from being any good; the morale was low, the people were frightened and discouraged. There seemed no end of demons invasion; they were all sure they would inevitably die there and the end of the world was just around the corner.  
And then, everything changed. Cassandra arrived with a prisoner she spoke about previously, and reported that he was able to close the smaller rifts. The Breach was still unreachable, but the hope emerged, alongside with a Herald of Andraste. A dashing title, Cullen thought. But he didn't doubt the holiness behind it: he couldn't doubt when he saw a miracle with his own eyes.

* * *

Trevelyan walked out of the Haven's gates, turning to Cullen's right shortly after. A familiar path to visit Cassandra. He frequented her training post very often, as Cullen observed, wondering why it was necessary if they already spent so much time traveling together on various missions; Cassandra was a permanent companion of the Herald.  
But this time Commander was wrong, as Trevelyan was obviously heading towards himself instead of Cassandra. Cullen collected himself in order to answer Herald's questions if needed; usually there were tons of them.They had an unpleasant discussion of the templar life and Cullen's views of mages lately; unpleasant only to Cullen of course, because those subjects were still not his favorite ones. Moreover he couldn't understand why Herald would ask about a Circle: he was a mage and certainly knew all of it himself; it seemed to Cullen that the mage was simply finding some fun in teasing him.  
"Have a nice day, Commander Cullen!" Trevelyan greeted him, good-humored and radiant as always. So quick he was to accept his new title of a chosen one! He acted as if he knew it for all his life, and was finally acknowledged by everyone one else, Cullen thought.  
"Herald." He tried not to sound too cold, but the memories of their quarrel at the War Table still lingered in his mind. The alliance with mages: of course, what else one could expect from a mage?  
Trevelyan seemed to be displeased."Maxwell! I have a name. Why won't anyone use it?"  
He rolled his eyes in question.  
"Well, never mind." He continued, not waiting for any response. "In fact, I'm here to talk with you. I've found a lodging stand nearby, and next to it there is a small hut, abandoned apparently. I thought," he added, showing the direction to the place with his hand, "maybe our forces could use it, as a warehouse or an outpost..." Maxwell stopped for a bit, looking for Cullen's reaction; there was none. "Mind to take a quick tour there with me?" He proposed lightly.  
"All right, " replied Cullen. The recruits could be taken care of by Rylen.  
So they headed to the right of the gates, following the road that cut through the thick snow. At first they were walking in silence, but Maxwell Trevelyan was not the one to keep his mouth shut for long.  
"So, Commander Cullen, how are our troops?" He asked.  
"We're trying to do our best, Herald, but the recruits are not of the highest quality. They're no warriors. Hopefully this will be overcome by their eagerness to serve the chosen hero." The last words sounded sarcastic, despite his best effort.  
"Say, Cullen," Trevelyan stopped to underline the importance of the matter. "Do you believe that I was chosen by the Maker and saved by Andraste?"  
Cullen scolded himself for bringing the matter up. "I do." He replied quietly.  
"It's good." Maxwell started walking again, and Commander followed. "Because I wanted to ask, do you have problems with mages in general or me in particular?" He asked boldly.  
"I have no problems with mages at present, Herald, as we had already discussed," Commander sounded worn out. Really, Trevelyan, again?  
"It's Maxwell. So then it's me in particular. You must think I'm an upstart, an average mage suddenly and undeservedly given the immense power... You must ask yourself, why was he the only one to survive, among the others, many of whom were much more worthy and deserving? Hmm, am I right?" Maxwell turned to study the Commander's face. "I know I'm right, don't bother to answer. In fact, don't bother thinking all that, for I had already thought it all through. And I tell you what? I don't know why I had been saved. I don't know what to do with all of it. But I have no choice, as haven't you as well. So you'll have to deal with me." Maxwell smiled again, his light spirit never down for a long time.  
"But I'd prefer we'd be friends instead, Cullen. I value you, as a professional, and every one of my companions speaks highly of you. You're more experienced in all these war things, and I could use a piece of advice now and then, you know."  
"I am at your service, Herald." Cullen even enjoyed his own stubbornness a bit to keep calling him that. Now it was his turn to be teasing. Maxwell kept silence this time.  
They reached the wooden hut, and briefly looked around it and then studied the inside of it. "So, Commander Cullen, are we good now? Remember, if I do something wrong, you're welcome to point that out. I'm not the one to go around in circles." He smirked. "I never liked Circles, you know."  
"We were not bad in the first place, Her- Maxwell. " Cullen said earnestly. "I'd also appreciate that you drop the subject of Circles already."  
"No problem. Now that we're done here, I invite you to have a drink in a tavern together. Come, the drink's on me!" And Maxwell walked out of the hut.  
"Do you believe it would be appropriate?" Cullen asked, also walking outside and closing the door firmly after him. "The Herald of Andraste in a tavern?"  
"Ah, here come the drawbacks of being a chosen one... Really, I think it would be not only appropriate, but spirit-rising also, good for morale." Trevelyan suddenly went very serious. "If we are to overcome the disagreement between mages and templars in the Inquisition, then first we should do it ourselves. Let us set an example, Cullen, you and me. Come!"  
After such an elegant justification for drinking instead of working, Cullen couldn't refuse the offer.  
When they entered the Haven's tavern, it was already late. So the hall was full with people: Cullen spotted Varric playing Wicked Grace at one of the tables; the bard was singing something. They occupied one of the tables, and then Maxwell left to speak with Flissa.  
"Oh, Grey Warden, what have you done?" sang the bard.  
_'What have you done? Why have you left me alone?'_ The sadness of the tune made Cullen want to go out. Out of nowhere, the weight of his grief and pain was on him again, when he thought he had overcome it, if just a bit. But he couldn't leave, couldn't disappoint Trevelyan in such manner. So he just waited for the latter patiently, watching idly as Trevelyan greeted the tavern keeper with a light bow of his head, and then exchanged a couple of words with her, slightly putting his arm around her shoulder and murmuring something into her ear. Flissa didn't protest such familiarity; instead, she giggled softly and nodded in approval. Cullen turned away, as he disliked the sight. He was too heartbroken himself to see someone's flirting; but with Maxwell around it was inevitable. Trevelyan returned soon, holding two large mugs, one in each hand.  
"Why do you look so sore, Commander?" He inquired. "It must be me taking for so long," he explained, pretending he's sorry, "but look what I have brought us!" He put the mugs on a table. "Fine Ferelden ale!" Trevelyan seated himself gesturing an invitation to drink.  
"There's a lot of people here, " Cullen said thoughtfully, " l didn't know it was so popular."  
"It's the only place a person can go here! Of course, it will be popular," smiled Maxwell. "All right. Here's to the hope that tomorrow will be easier on us than today!" He proposed a toast and they took a sip from their mugs.

>   
>  "Can you be forgiven  
>  When the cold grave has come?"  
> 

With Trevelyan silent for a moment, Cullen heard the bard. Could he be forgiven for leaving her alone to die? Now that she was cold, dead, and... _'Oh Maker.'_ He couldn't endure that any longer. Cullen covered his face with his hands, and when he removed them, Maxwell was eyeing him worryingly: "Are you alright?"  
"I- Yes, I am. I'm just... tired. And this song is unnerving."  
Maxwell was apparently relieved that Commander had braced himself up, and added: "I'd second that - this tune is so whiny, and the lyrics don't make sense to me at all... I don't like it also. We'll ask for something else. Hello there, lady- lady bard? Could you please come up here?" He waved a hand.  
The bard came to them, ceasing the singing. "Yes, my lords?"  
"What's your name?" Trevelyan smiled,standing up to greet the girl.  
"Maryden."  
"Pleased to meet you, Maryden. I'm Maxwell Trevelyan, though some refer to me as Herald of Andraste. And I should say, if I might, that if you sang the Andrastian Chant, the Maker himself would return to listen, so divine your voice is."  
The bard girl smiled looking confused, staring at him with admiration. Cullen held himself back from snorting, wrinkling his nose.  
"But maybe you would sing us something more cheerful?" Trevelyan added softly.  
"What would you like to hear, Herald?"  
"Cullen?" Trevelyan turned to him, awaiting the response.  
Cullen was taken aback. He was not well acquainted with the repertoire of tavern singers, and he didn't know what to say, his desire for leaving growing stronger with every moment. He made some unintelligible sounds, and Trevelyan had to take the decision himself:  
"Well, in fact, choose any merry song you like, darling. I'm sure your taste is as delightful as your voice." And he sat down, content with himself. "And, oh, " he added suddenly, " I would need to borrow your lute after this one, agreed?" She nodded, and left for her place.  
The lighter music, resembling the village dances, filled the air, and Cullen noticed some of the people indeed standing up to dance. It was nice, he thought, that people had a place where they could relax. The music reminded him of his youth in Honnleath and the village fests he'd attended. He didn't like them very much, because it was often too loud, but his sister would always drag him there. Now, those memories softened his heart, easing his pain. Watching the people dance and laugh, he felt his empathetic soul filled with joy and hope that not everything good was lost in this world.  
Trevelyan seemed to love the accompaniment change as well, nodding his head and tapping his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the music.  
"Enjoying yourselves?" The displeased voice came from behind and they both turned around to find Cassandra hovering over the table, her face showing discontent. "I've been searching for you all over Haven, Trevelyan, and you are here, doing everything but preparing yourself for our departure for Redcliffe! And you," she turned to Cullen and the latter blushed, "I didn't expect you to encourage such carelessness! I'm very disappointed, " she added almost disgusted, "It is imperative that you soon go to have a night's rest. Maker only knows what awaits us in Redcliffe."  
She walked away, making her way straight through the dancing people and tables. "Isn't she simply gorgeous?" Maxwell whispered, watching wistfully as her red tail waved as she walked.  
"Stop hitting on her." Cullen said between his teeth.  
"What?"  
"You heard me, Herald. Stop pestering Seeker Pentaghast with your improper molestation." Commander replied coldly.  
"Oh really?" Trevelyan arched his brow, in both surprise and amusement with Cullen's reaction. "Is that an order, _Commander_?"  
Cullen didn't return the smile. It seemed that his patience gave way at last. "I'm not joking. I have to admit that I don't approve your attitude towards women as a whole, but this... Seeker Cassandra is a faithful and respected woman, and a Right Hand of the Divine. She deserves much better than your fooling around, as if she was one of the girls here." Cullen stated, frowning. "I will not let you toy with her heart and feelings. If you break her heart, I will break your nose! " He threatened, pointing his finger at Trevelyan.  
"Whoa, easy there, Commander!" Exclaimed Maxwell, waving his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture. "We've only had one, and you're already into nose-breaking, tsk, tsk, tsk." Suddenly he became unusually grave. "Don't get me wrong, Cullen. It's not that... I mean, Cassandra is not just one of the girls... In fact, she's very special and dear to me." Maxwell sighed. "I've never met anyone like her before. And ever since we traveled together to that first rift, I just can't take my eyes off her. She's fearless and brave, she's strong and determined, she's so... impossibly wonderful, I can't even find words." He shook his head, then resting it on a support of his both hands and staring at the table. "You don't have to worry, my friend," he added calmly, "I don't have the opportunity to break her heart, for she keeps turning me down." Maxwell confessed matter-of-factly.  
Cullen didn't know what to say, but luckily he was spared from the necessity to answer by Varric, who obviously had finally noticed Commander and came up to him with his persistent warm smile.  
"Curly!" He greeted Cullen, "nice to meet you here. Good to know that you're after all an ordinary man who needs to eat, drink and sleep, and have some rest sometimes, no matter how false that may seem if one meets you briefly. Come," Varric made an inviting gesture, "you're up for a game of Wicked Grace?" He pointed to the table with a turn of his head. "And you, Trevy?"  
Maxwell shook his head. "No, Varric, I was just leaving. Thanks, though." The bard stopped playing, and he headed to her, taking her lute handed to him with a reverence.  
"I think I'll also pass," replied Cullen, making Varric to look at him with narrowed eyes. The dwarf cocked his head to a side: "Are you just afraid to lose, Curly?"  
Cullen's competitive spirit was too easily affected. He frowned at dwarf's mischievous smile: "Of course not! Lead me there, and I'll show you how to play!" Varric smirked, and they left.  
Trevelyan walked out the tavern, and started to walk fast down to the gates. The night was chilly and freezing, and the sky was full of stars. He pulled on his fur hood, rubbing his hands together to warm them, which was very inconvenient with carrying the instrument. How would he play it with such numb fingers?  
When he almost reached the gates, the thought occurred to him, and he laughed aloud. "What a fool you are, Maxwell," he said to himself. Indeed, he was a mage. One spell, and warmth spread through his body, from toes to fingertips. That was much better.  
He walked out of the gates, and took the familiar path to Cassandra's tent. Everything was quiet; probably she was already sleeping. Maxwell leaned his back on one of the training dummies, and running his fingers over the strings started to sing, his voice tender and clear:

>   
>  "Over the mountains  
>  And over the waves,  
>  Under the fountains  
>  And under the graves,  
>  Under floods that are deepest,  
>  Fa-la-la-la-la-lay ( _‘Maker's balls, what was it?’_ )  
>  Over rocks which are the steepest,  
>  Love will find out the way."  
> 

He took the lute more comfortably, adjusting the length of its neck band, and continued a bit louder:

>   
>  "Where there is no place  
>  For the glow-worm to lie,  
>  Where there is no space  
>  For receipt of a fly,  
>  Where the gnat dares not venture,  
>  Lest herself fast she lay,  
>  But if Love comes, he will enter,  
>  And will find out the way."  
> 

Cassandra turned in her half-dream, waking up completely. The light music and a very pleasant voice filled the air, reaching her ears. Was she dreaming?

>   
>  "You may esteem him  
>  A child for his might,  
>  Or you may deem him  
>  A coward from his flight.  
>  But if she, whom Love doth honor,  
>  Be concealed from the day  
>  Set a thousand guards upon her,  
>  Love will find out the way."  
> 

No, she was absolutely not dreaming. There was a man outside her tent, singing for her, and his voice was familiar. Cassandra couldn't believe that! Was Trevelyan serenading?  
"Trevelyan! Is that you?" She asked anxiously.  
"Yes, my lady Cassandra," he replied gallantly.  
"I thought I told you to go to sleep!" She said, her voice coming a bit muted from inside the tent.  
"And I intend to do so, my lady. But, I couldn't go to sleep before I wished a good night to you." And without further delay, he continued.

>   
>  "Some think to lose him  
>  By having him confined  
>  Some do suppose him,  
>  Poor thing, to be blind;  
>  But if ne'er so close ye wall him,  
>  Do the best that you may,  
>  Blind Love, if so ye call him,  
>  Will find out his way."  
> 

Cassandra couldn't help her cheeks burning. Was he really courting her in such a chivalrous manner? She had never experienced that before, and was scolding herself for not interrupting all of it right then.  
"Trevelyan! Just you wait, and I will come out to bang something heavy on your head!" She threatened in a fit of temper.  
"Lady Cassandra, " Maxwell replied tenderly, "I'm sure you wouldn't hurt the Maker's chosen, would you? And I would be the happiest man in all Thedas if you came out, for the sight of you never fails to fill my day with joy. And night too," he added after a second's thought.  
He heard Cassandra making a displeased grunt inside the tent, and he knew that this time he'd won the argument.

>   
>  "You may train the eagle  
>  To stoop to your fist.  
>  You may train in veigle  
>  The Phoenix of the east.  
>  The lioness, you may move her  
>  To give o'er her prey;  
>  But you'll ne'er stop a lover;  
>  He will find out his way."  
> 

"Good night, Lady Cassandra," he said softly, "may the Maker send you only sweet dreams."

Cassandra lay down again on her back, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands. "Sweet Andraste," she muttered to herself. And while she was falling gently into that blissful abyss of a dream, she couldn't help the widest smile creeping into her face.

>   
>  "But you'll ne'er stop a lover;  
>  He will find out his way."  
> 

The fading song of Trevelyan feeling drunk in love and walking away was the last thing she heard before falling asleep completely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Trevelyan sings is an old English song that I found here:  
> http://www.contemplator.com/england/lovefind.html.  
> You can listen to the tune here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhIWFyFfZ2M  
> I've intentionally made him forget the line that mentions Neptune, for this god would be too out of Thedas setting.
> 
> And I know that Grey Warden song probably comes later in the game, but I'm taking some liberty here.  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. If I Could Only Reach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected guest comes to Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set after the Adamant's battle and Inquisitor's visit of the Fade after that.

Cullen was still working in his office in Skyhold though it was late at night. So many reports to study, so much to do. The Inquisitor as well as Cassandra, Varric and Bull were away, but were expected to return soon, and Commander had to get lots of things prepared for the War Council. He was weary, and his mind refused to function properly, try as he might to force it. He was staring at the same word and reading it for the third time over when the door opened to let Vivienne enter.  
"Good evening, Commander," she stationed herself gracefully in front of his table. "Can you spare a moment of your time?"  
Cullen looked up, his eyes red from the absence of sleep. "Of course, Madame Vivienne, what is it that you need? Please, take a seat." He stood up to offer her a chair to sit, pushing it towards his desk.  
"I came to you with a personal affair, my dear Commander." She started, sitting upright. "I would ask Inquisitor, but he's away as always, and the matter is urgent."  
She looked at him knowingly, pitying his weary state. "I need a heart of a snowy wyvern for a potion, a rare beast that could be found in Exalted Plains. I wondered if you could spare some of your men to fulfil the task? As a side benefit, your men would acquire the scales of those beasts that could be used to craft sturdy armor."  
Cullen didn't answer immediately, searching the place on a map, and rubbing the small of his neck in thought.  
"I think it is possible," he said at last. "There are our men in the region, working to gain access to Ghilan'nain's Grove."  
"It's marvelous, thank you very much, dear," Vivienne exclaimed, "I've always known that you are a reliable man, Commander Cullen."  
She looked at him attentively, adding: "Is there anything I could do for you? I recognize the lyrium withdrawal symptoms in you, and I know it can't be easy. If you like, I can make a potion for you that would ease the pain." She offered kindly.  
"I-" His answer was interrupted, when all of a sudden a strange and loud noise came from his left, followed by a series of smaller scratching sounds.  
"What's this?" Vivienne asked in terror.  
"I don't know," Cullen confessed, "I'll go out to look. You'd better wait for me here."  
"No! I'm coming with you," she announced. "You may need help."  
"All right, but stay vigilant and in the rear."  
Ever alert, Cullen collected his sword and walked outside his office, Vivienne following him. Undoubtedly the noises were coming from a neighboring tower room. That room was always empty and frequented only by some passing patrols and scouts and Inquisitor at times. To be honest, the room was a mess.  
Commander opened the door and entered slowly unsheathing his sword. On the floor among the broken pieces of furniture and rags lied a woman with Cole kneeling by her side and patting her hand which he held in his own.  
"What is going on here? Cole?" Cullen inquired impatiently.  
Cole didn't even look at him, concentrating on his patient. "Mercy, mercy..." He whined.  
Cullen came closer, his mind suffering with the memories of the young pale templar recruit calling out for his mercy. He didn't doubt then. Now he hesitated. Having come near the woman lying on the floor he found out to his horror that it was no else but Solona Amell, Hero of Ferelden, Senior Enchanter of Montsimmard Circle, in person.  
His thoughts were confused. How could it be even possible? She died at the Conclave as well as all the others. Yet Inquisitor survived, could she possibly...?  
"Mercy! Only came to help." Cole's voice interrupted his reasoning.  
Vivienne entered to join them in the room.  
"Commander! What's going on he- aaah!" She discovered the unconscious mage on the floor.  
Vivienne approached her with caution. "Oh, my dear lady Amell... I knew her, Commander," she turned to Cullen shaking her head in disapproval, "she was one of my senior enchanters and a loyal friend." She sighed.  
"Oh my darling, to see you have come to this... How is it even possible? Wait, it is impossible! It's a demon, an abomination!" She exclaimed in terror, noticing also Cole. "It's your work no doubt, little pet demon of Inquisitor, as I had warned him many times," Vivienne hissed angrily. "Commander! What are you waiting for? You must kill it now!"  
Cullen stood as if he was petrified. He couldn't. So many times in the past his decisions went amiss, so he could not take the responsibility. He was not in charge.  
"Inquisitor will decide its fate when he returns." He stated firmly.  
Vivienne was infuriated by his refusal to slay the demon. "Are you mad, Commander? We're facing the greatest danger that could threaten the whole Skyhold! What if there are more of them nearby? I didn't expect you to-" She was interrupted by Solas who rushed into the room. She could do nothing but stay to watch.  
"I heard you calling, Cole," the elf said, quickly sitting down by the other side of the woman lying on the floor opposite to Cole. The latter was still holding her hand. "Mercy," he repeated once more.  
Solas examined her thoroughly, muttering some unintelligible words to himself.  
"I believe Cole is right," he spoke at length, "it is a spirit of Mercy, and a powerful one."  
He turned to Cullen: "We are lucky. This will be a great aid to our cause." He also added somewhat angrily: "And drop your sword already, we're in no danger."  
Cullen still held his weapon ready, discarding the advice of the elf. "What kind of aid to our cause is one dead woman, I wonder?" He asked, while Vivienne shifted to move herself behind the protection of Cullen's back, pursing her lips into a thin line.  
Solas sighed and continued, as if he had to explain that the sky is blue and the water is wet: "Mighty and benevolent spirits such as this one come to this world in the form of great healers."  
"But it is unconscious! How would you even wake it up?" Cullen asked.  
"It may take some time, yes. I'll try." Solas bent over to her face.  
"Mercy, why have you come to us?" His words were calm and respectful. "O Mercy, hear my call, wake up!" He also added some elven words that none of those present could understand.  
At first, no reaction came. Then the woman opened her eyes. And, oh Maker, that was her eyes Cullen remembered so well. Only their look was unnatural, glowing with a strange light. The woman sat up and then Cole helped her to stand up. Solas kept himself behind.  
Mercy-Amell looked around her and noticed Cullen, who was still pointing his sword at her ready to strike.  
"Your weapon is of no use, mortal." The intonation was foreign and cold. "This woman is already dead, and I... Well, I'm far beyond your reach, mortal." She touched his blade and pushed it down.  
"Don't worry; you are not in danger from me. I have come because too many people here are calling out for me. Your enemy threatens our world as much as yours. I have come to help you stop him."  
No one saw that Solas looked very pleased. Hiding his smile he stepped forward. "We greet you, Mercy. And we are grateful for your help. But in order to not scare all the people here you must first get more acquainted with this world. Cole, the spirit of compassion, will aid you in that." Cole nodded eagerly.  
Solas then turned to the Commander. "I suggest that this lady spend a few days in some deserted room here, getting used to act like a human mage. I believe you can provide such a room, Commander."  
Cullen didn't like the apostate elven mage telling him what to do. "Inquisitor will decide it," he repeated stubbornly.  
"Of course," agreed Solas. "But until he returns I think it would be best to keep our guest a secret. It is only reasonable, in my opinion, and I would like you to cooperate."  
Cullen hated to admit that it was reasonable. They could not refuse a healer, but it was enough having Cole to confuse and scare the Skyhold's inhabitants.  
"All right. There are some empty sleeping rooms here on the wall."  
"Cole and I will show her the way," suggested Solas, and three of them left, leaving Cullen and Vivienne alone in their bewilderment.  
While walking, Solas turned to Cole. "Have you seen that mage, Vivienne?"  
"Yes", replied Cole, "I don't like her."  
"She needs to forget." The voice of Solas was determined, and Cole only nodded in agreement: "I'll do it."

* * *

The next few days Cole spent with Mercy, explaining to her how this strange immutable world was functioning. They were much alike, spirits with human bodies so they naturally clang together. Cole recognized her at once as his better, but they were still close as brother and sister. Mercy was adjusting quickly and soon they let her walk around Skyhold during the night-time.  
It was still unclear how she got there. The body of Amell must have been preserved in the cold of Frostback Mountains, but why she was in the mountains and not in the temple remained unknown. As for Skyhold, it was no doubt that Cole had found her outside the gates and let her in.  
Cullen was very uneasy with all of that. He still called it an abomination in his head. An abomination that took the body of his beloved. The worst of his fears come true. He prayed that Inquisitor return soon, as if Trevelyan could solve that problem.  
Praying quietly he was, kneeling before the statue of Andraste in the small chapel accessible from the garden, when he heard somebody enter behind him. Quicker than he could turn his head that someone reached him from behind and Commander felt the cold blade pressed to his neck.  
Cullen could hardly breathe. An enemy, here, in Skyhold? He realized that he was unarmed, his own sword at his throat, caught off guard.  
"I remember you calling out for me, mortal." The familiar cold voice of Mercy came. "Many years ago, but you still cry that in your dreams, begging to kill you, to end it." Indeed, Cullen's nightmares had grown worse since his lyrium withdrawal started to develop its effects. He gulped with an effort.  
"I could grant your wish, mortal. Do you still want it?" She continued.  
This was absurd. "No, I don't!" He cried, losing his temper.  
She freed him and he jumped to his legs quickly turning around to face her. "What's this all about?"  
She seemed perplexed. "In fact, I came to apologize. I didn't want to frighten you earlier. I don't know what got into me. Maybe that was your prayer. You must understand that I am affected by the strong emotions."  
She handed him the weapon. "Take it, Commander. It is yours after all." She turned away to go.  
Commander was finally able to speak. The thought that troubled him since he had first seen her here in Skyhold came to him again. "Mercy, wait. I... wanted to ask. Tell me how she died." He asked quietly, his voice merely a whisper.  
The woman turned to face him, stopping in a doorway of the chapel. The moonlight from the garden behind her enlightened her features.  
"I don't really know that, for when I'd found her, she was already dead. Her body trapped in the snow, and her spirit in the Fade. She died fighting a Nightmare demon, I presume."  
She entered the chapel, coming closer to him and continued.  
"Cole told me about you two. You must endure."  
Cullen covered his face with his hands, not being able to look at the woman he loved and who was dead at the same moment. "I can't...I can't understand. She's gone, but here she stands in front of me, breathing, talking..."  
"I can leave if you'd prefer that."  
"No! Please, don't go." He spoke, fear in his voice, and looked at her once more, silent pleading in his eyes. "Is there anything left of her in you, in this body?"  
"I think there is. You mortals have your spirit bound to your body, the body keeps some part of it, yes. But you must know that, as you were one of _them_."  
"One of them?" Cullen didn't get even a bit of what the spirit was saying.  
"Yes, though you are not like the most of them. They who dare to take the Essence which is not theirs and not for them." The spirit sounded displeased.  
"The essence? Can you stop speaking in riddles?"  
Mercy-Amell sighed, and started explaining while walking outside into the garden. Cullen followed her path, trying to also follow her words.  
"I believe you call it lyrium. It is the Essence of our world, it is us. When you mortals ingest it, it gives more force to your spirit, at the same time also letting it more free of the body binds. The longer you do it, the less you control your own spirit, you lose the parts of yourself, until there's no more left... You really didn't know?"  
Cullen shook his head."No. I... That's awful!"  
"But mages take it too, and they don't lose their personality. Why is that so?" He added after a second's thought.  
"Ah, the mages... They are different. They own their essence, so the spirit of a mage can be allowed to walk freely. As a dog, it will return to its master. Yours, on the contrary, is a caged wolf, - once freed, it will never come back."  
Cullen couldn't believe all that, though it explained well the memory loss in older templars. Mercy continued, as if trying to convince him.  
"The nightmares you have, consider, your spirit longs for the force and freedom and power it once had, longs for the Fade where it belongs. So when you're asleep, it tries to wander deeper in the Fade and break the body chain, causing you pain."  
The spirit stopped talking and the silence of the night fell between them. Cullen was shocked by all the revelations of the lyrium effects, but still only one thought disturbed his mind repeatedly.  
"Can you bring her back? I mean, call her 'dog', her spirit?" He tried to use his new knowledge to his advantage.  
"Theoretically, I think it is possible, for her spirit is still in the Fade. But there's no reason to do so: she would not be the person you once knew. Her memory would be lost, replaced by the nightmare visions... Besides, I need this body for myself." The voice of Mercy was still cold and even but it sounded threatening to Cullen.  
What was he hoping for? It was an abomination. _'You knew that all along, why would you expect anything else?'_ He asked himself mentally.  
Still, he had learned the important information: Amell could be brought back. As for the memory... Well, he didn't forget the journey of Trevelyan in the Fade after the Adamant battle, where the latter returned his memories stolen by the Nightmare... He had to get more from the spirit, so he decided to find out as much information as he could asking it again.  
"Maybe there's a way? I once knew a mage who harbored a Justice spirit inside him, but they shared a body. Please, Mercy, bring her back! If there's anything I can do-"  
He couldn't finish the sentence. In one moment, the eyes of the woman were illuminated by the bright light, the power emanating from all her frame. That power knocked him to the ground on his knees.  
"What will you give me for her life?" The spirit demanded, its voice powerful and loud.  
He wanted to say something, to explain, but he couldn't, as she stretched a hand towards him, and though she didn't touch him, he felt paralyzed, his throat squeezed by an invisible hand. He couldn't move even a single muscle, couldn't breathe, and he felt he would be soon fainting.  
"No!" She shrieked, suddenly turning away from him, and grasping her hand pointed at him with her other hand, thus breaking the spell.  
Cullen fell flat on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. She wouldn't look at him, and whispered, her voice weary: "Bargaining with mortals is what turns us to demons. Do not tempt me with your offers. You must be wary, mortal. Do not promise anything to the strangers you don't know. You've already ruined your life with vows, oaths and promises you couldn't keep. Stop doing that, I warn you."  
With that, she left with an amazing speed, as if hurried by magic. Well, probably it was magic.  
When he finally recovered, the darkness still surrounded him, and he figured it was still night, though how much time passed he couldn't guess. Cullen slowly stood up collecting his thoughts and memories. He felt anger growing inside him. He had to save Amell, he knew it was possible. The memory of Arl Eamon's son came to him - the boy was saved even though he was an abomination. They had enough mages in the Inquisition, but the secrecy of the matter prevented seeking their help. He sighed heavily, realizing he had to turn to an elven apostate.

* * *

Entering the Solas' room Cullen was unpleasantly surprised to meet Mercy-Amell again. The woman was sitting on a couch while the elven mage stood by. They were talking quietly, and Solas seemed to calm her patiently. Having noticed Commander, he stepped forward, as if trying to protect the woman, standing between her and him. Solas was not looking pleased, his eyes narrowed.  
"What have you done? You nearly corrupted it with your foolish actions!" Solas threw at him angrily.  
"I did nothing!" cried Cullen. "This abomination couldn't be corrupted _more_. It nearly killed me! It attacked me twice as well, and you still take its side, blaming me!" He was enraged beyond the measure.  
"I'm not blaming you, though you should have known better." Solas replied in a calmer voice.  
But the ex-templar was unstoppable. "I don't get it! Why do you always take the wrong side? You and me, we both belong to this world, and this abomination," his face twisted with disgust," is from another one. You have more in common with me, you should side with me, not with it!" Cullen felt betrayed and deceived.  
"I have _nothing_ in common with you." The voice was cold and arrogant. "And even if I had, this is not how I choose my sides."  
Cullen ignored everything he heard; he was not there to be lectured by an apostate. "Anyway, _it_ ," Cullen pointed at Mercy, "confessed that the owner of the body is not completely dead, only her memory corrupted. That she can be returned among the living. And you will help me with it."  
So confident was Cullen's voice, so undoubtedly he stated that Solas would help him, that the latter couldn't but chuckle. "And why on earth would I do that?"  
Cullen was not the one easily dissuaded. "Because it's the right thing to do! This would really be a great aid to our cause! I don't know where you're from or where you were during the Blight, but certainly you have heard of Hero of Ferelden. Isn't she worth bringing back?"  
"With that, I would agree." Solas went thoughtful and reminiscing. "I've seen the memories of her deeds in the Fade. Truly brave and wise she was, and had a rare spirit."  
Cullen felt his hopes rising." So-?"  
"So nothing!" snapped Solas. "There are many things worth restoring. But you cannot bring them back by wishing!"  
Cullen's heart sank low. The elven mage, who was his only hope, finally refused to help him. Desperately, he whispered: "I beg you, Solas, help me just once! Ask anything from me in return!"  
"Are you doing that again?" The cold voice of Mercy that remained silent until this moment came, and both men turned to her. "Haven't I warned you, mortal?"  
She came to stand between them. "Do you even know what creature you're pledging yourself into service?"  
Cullen almost jumped in surprise. It was Amell speaking, not the spirit. The tone was human, mocking, and so alive.  
Solas seemed to be surprised too, but he managed to conceal it quickly. "Know your place, spirit!" He exclaimed, raising a hand, and making Mercy to retire to the couch.  
What was she talking about? Did she know anything about his true identity? The spirit could not know that, he was sure. Then, was it the memory of Amell mage? The matter needed his investigation.The elven mage turned to Cullen.  
"I was not going to bind our Commander by any kind of promise. Instead, I will help him willingly. I will try to bring her back. Find us a room and guard our bodies." He ordered.  
Cullen couldn't believe his ears. What was the sudden change in Solas behavior? Would he really help? But he was afraid to ruin this by the words so he only nodded, and they headed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Amell is back!  
> What mystery she holds, we'll find out very soon ^_^
> 
> I'm sorry there is confusion between 'she' and 'it' while referring to Mercy-Amell, but that is to represent others' (Cullen's, mostly) confusion about her. I hope it's not too weird!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. The Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona meets Solas, both of them benefiting from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written first, bringing the whole history to life after.  
> So, given this is my first fanfic ever, it makes this my first chapter ever!
> 
> I like it a lot. So I hope you will enjoy reading it!

When Solona awoke, she was alone, lying flat on her back... well, somewhere. The first thing to see after she opened her eyes was the sky. The blue and serene sky slightly covered with small clouds. In those the branches of giant pine trees were lost. Though the trees did not prevent the wide sun beams from cutting through the air. Yes, she was in the forest, and quite comfortable on the soil covering made of pine needles.  
She inhaled the air and it felt like she was getting better with each breath she drew. For the first time in a long period her mind was clear and memory present, she was herself once again. Solona didn't mind resting like that forever, only she was getting thirsty.  
_'Water. I should look around, maybe there is some small river or something here.'_  
She tried to stand up, but her limbs betrayed her and she fell back down on the ground. Lying with her face to the ground, she smelled the wonderful scent of the forest, a mix of pine tree and wet soil and mushrooms and Maker knows what else. Having pressed her ear to the ground she heard the sounds of the running water, she was so longing to find. _'It must be not far away.'_  
She decided at once to move in that direction. Crawling was all she could do, so crawling she was, slow but steady. After a short time travel on her fours she reached indeed a small creek running through the forest. Luckily, she was approaching its flat bank. She sat slowly on her knees just by the waterside and leaned forward in order to drink.  
And she drank and drank and could not stop, and the water tasted of sunlight and hope, and of life itself. Solona closed her eyes and washed her face all over, enjoying the cool splashes and then drying it off with her hands.  
When she opened her eyes again, suddenly it was darker than before; apparently something was blocking the path of the sunlight in front of her. She lifted her head and saw a man standing on the opposite bank of the creek. He was definitely an elf, but a strange one. Clad in greyish robes tall and proud he stood. She could not guess his age, for he was strong and slender, but his head was bald and his eyes, bright and keen, showed the wisdom of many years. He kept silence, but was watching her intensely, studying her not without interest.  
Whoever he was, she reckoned, he might be able to help in that unknown place. She was weak and weary, so the only way to approach him was with caution and respect.  
"Andaran atish'an, ha'hren." She greeted him politely in what little she knew of elven language.  
"Andaran atish'an," he replied. His voice was calm and tone even, and words came slowly, as if he tried to underline the stresses and vowels that she hadn't pronounced correctly.  
She thought immediately that she had displeased him and scolded herself mentally for this stupid idea of speaking elven.  
"I'm sorry, my lord," she continued quickly, "I had no intention of mocking your language. I was only trying to be polite." She shook her head.  
"I am not your lord," he answered calmly, "and don't get me wrong, you were polite, your attempt appreciated."  
She was still staring at her legs and not daring to look up at him. "Who are you then?"  
"You may call me Solas." Of course, he would not reveal himself to her.  
"Are you the master of this place? Was it you who brought me here?"  
"Yes and yes." His words were falling like the water drops.  
"Why? What for?" She whispered, looking at herself mirroring in the running water. To her surprise, she looked just all right, besides her eyes that were unusually wide and frightened.  
"To talk," he replied, and with that he stepped over the creek halting next to her.  
"Come walk with me," he added.  
Again she shook her head in denial. "I'm weak. I can't even stand."  
"I shall aid you. Here." And she saw a hand stretched towards her.  
Hesitantly, she took it into her two hands and then he helped her to stand up to her legs. As she guessed correctly before, he was just a bit taller than her.

He put one of his arms around her shoulder and lent her the other hand so she could lean on it. They walked down the naturally formed forest road, him gently guiding her by the shoulder. Quietly and slowly they strolled as if in some strange dance.  
He would not say a word, while she felt that with every step, with every breath, with every heartbeat the force returned to her, like the forest itself was caressing and nursing her. She was not sure whether he was supporting or convoying her, but she really didn't care.  
Long time had passed, and then finally the forest path opened into a small clearing. Solona noticed a simple garden house, wooden and painted white, in the middle of the glade. It was round and had a bench going around its perimeter and a round table in the centre.  
"Sit," he finally cut the silence.  
Again she was unsure if it was an order or a polite offer. Nevertheless, she sat down, glad to have some rest. She made herself comfortable and leaned back. He did the same on the opposite side of the table. Still, he was only watching, as if trying to read her mind, but would not speak a word.  
Her impatience got the better of her.  
"If you want to talk, then you should probably try and open your mouth, and speak some words!"  
He leaned forward a bit. "Ah."  
And the question came, in ancient and beautiful language:  
"Dirth ma, na'era melava enala?"  
She watched in amazement how the words like the spells cast distorted the world around her weaving together and defining the reality of their own. The wave reached her mind, invoking the memory of a strange dream she had long ago in the house of the Korcari Wilds witch. Just before she awoke to the fact that her life and that of her companion were saved by that odd woman, she had a dream about the tall elf asking her what her dream emerged and the woman behind her back replying.  
Solona let that memory grow until it filled her mind and then that reply came as her own, her voice forceful and melodious, her speech slow and rhythmic, her words perfectly articulated:  
"Fen'Harel, na melana sahlin. El melana sahlin. Lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir.  
Dar'enasalin ma, an etha lethallin. Dar'ghilana var mir el'sulahn'nehn."  
She watched as the surprise and joy filled the eyes of the tall elf as he stood up. Then he started murmuring something to himself apparently lost in his own thoughts.  
"Did I get that wrong too?" She inquired as she was a bit disappointed by his lack of reaction.  
He looked at her as if he just saw her for the first time.  
"No, not at all. It was... nicely done." He came closer and continued, "Who would be the author of this message?"  
She blinked. "Flemeth. The witch of the Korcari Wilds. Asha'belannar."  
"Hmm." That was the only answer as he turned and started walking away, obviously deep in thought.

As he disappeared in the dark of the forest, she felt that the whole place was fading away. She was in the Fade, and the will of the stranger who called himself Solas was forming the wild and beautiful forest she had awoken in. With him walking away and his thoughts drawn elsewhere, the place was also disappearing. She felt the breath of the Nightmare on her shoulder and realized she couldn't let Solas go away.  
So she sprang and ran like a halla chased by a wolf, hoping to reach the grey silhouette still seen in the distance. She almost managed to catch the elf, but then stumbled on a tree root and fell clumsily on the ground. In her fall she had managed to grasp the lower hem of his robes and was holding to it like the last straw.  
"My lord!" she cried desperately, "Don't leave me now! Your mind and will has created this place, and it is vanishing. And that means I will be thrown in the hands of the Nightmare again. I thank you, lord, for these moments of rest and peace before I die - for I am dying, I know it, - but I beg you, my lord, don't let it happen! For I can not, will not endure that anymore, and so I plead, have mercy, kill me now!"  
The elf froze where he was standing and then turned around and lifted her by the shoulders in a swift and accurate movement. He pulled the female mage towards himself and embraced her tightly, placing one of his hands on her temple.  
"I said I was not your lord." He sighed. "Ir abelas," he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry. I forgot about you, that was a fault of me."  
Gently stroking her head, he continued talking, his voice calm and soothing:  
"Era seranna-ma, da'shem'len. Ar'din nuvenin na'din. Ma melava halani. Ar tu na'halanila. Ma souveri, mala hamin nadas. Ma banal harel, da'shem'len."  
When she calmed down and stopped crying he released her and let her stay free in front of him. She looked at him with her eyes still wet and red and asked:  
"Why do you continue talking to me in that language? You know I don't understand it."  
"Your mind doesn't," he agreed, "but your heart does. Also, I thought you liked it. I wanted to indulge you. I believe you have not heard it much lately." She could swear she saw the faintest smile on his lips.  
"Well, I believe you have not too." She smiled back, bearing in mind his shock after her reciting the message from Flemeth.  
"Your eyes are keen, da'shem'len," he replied in a gallant manner.  
"But you are right, Solas, I do like it. Thank you. Still, I don't get it, why are you helping me? Why do you care? You don't know me, and I'm not even one of your people."  
Sudden glare was in his eyes. "My people?" His voice went harsh and sharp. "And who would they be?"  
"Well, I-I think...the elves?"  
Solas took a step back from her and started walking back and forth.  
"The elves? The ones that cling blindfold to the remnants of knowledge they do not understand, surrounding themselves with fairy tales and superstitions? Or maybe the ones that have forgotten themselves and crave only to be like humans?"  
He returned to stay in front of her. "Or maybe you leave me such a wonderful choice between those two?" He nearly barked into her face.  
"I don't know..." She mumbled, backing away, fear in her eyes.  
Solas shook his head, cooling at once "Era seranna-ma. Ma emma tel'harel."  
And in a bit he added, "I shouldn't have been so ill-tempered. I apologize."  
"No harm done," she replied lightly. "So, where are your people then? Elvhen like you?"  
Surprise on his face changed into sadness. "I wish I knew that," he said bitterly.  
But quickly he composed himself again, and added in a lighter tone: "While I have not found them yet, I still have my friends, people who are like-minded. Those who cherish the freedom of thought and do not cling to dogmas, those who respect what there were but are open to the changes, those who prefer research and study over blind belief. All those people, which includes, - for I'm not taking into account that recent utterly human and narrow-minded display of yours, - includes you." He concluded somewhat solemnly.  
"Me? But you don't know me at all."  
"I've seen enough," he protested. "Also in my journeys in Fade I once met a spirit that you freed during your Harrowing."  
She was sure she had never told that anyone, for it was highly controversial.  
"It was a Pride Demon," she said thoughtfully, "it called itself Mouse. It helped me, and I only wanted to do the same. At first, I was very scared, but the spirit of Valor gave me the strength to fight. And then I realized, that I was an intruder in that world, that spirits were drawn to me, interested and at the same time confused and afraid of me, as we humans would be should a spirit emerge in our world. So I said to Mouse that he needed not attack me or even notice me, and he...it left. That's why my Harrowing was so fast, I didn't even have to fight." She explained.  
Solas was smiling widely now. "A wise and noble acting, my friend. Unexpected from a Circle mage, however. The more I appreciate that."  
He stepped a bit to his side and then forward, standing side by side with her. "So I will help you. You will not die, my friend. But first you must regain your strength. Shall we walk some more?" He offered her a hand.  
She bowed to him as a queen would bow to a king, and took the offer. "It is my pleasure," she put simply. "And while we walk, can I ask you for something?"  
"Ask away," he replied generously.  
"Would you mind to tell me a story? In Elvhen language, if I might ask."  
The elf was apparently pleased with her request. "Ma nuvenin. What kind of story would you like to hear?"  
"A story of love and hatred, of friendship and betrayal, of war and peace, of life and death, as all the good stories usually are."  
"Alright," he agreed. "Behold the tale of Falon'din and his brother Dirthamen. Garas, ma falon."  
And they walked once again, him leading easily and gracefully. "Sa'an sa’mana Falon'din Lethanavir..." he started, and his voice, melodious and bright, filled the space around them.  
They walked and he was telling her a story long forgotten, of which she couldn't understand a word. Still, the strangest visions filled her head: now and then she saw the scenes from his tale as if painted with fast and wide brush strokes. Solona felt better with every second and soon she was walking all on her own.  
When he stopped abruptly, she was still moving and literally bumped into him, being dragged out of her daydreaming.  
"Why did we stop?" She asked, not wanting to interrupt her wonderful journey.  
"My story is finished," he stated, "and here we are." He turned around to face her, and having examined her with his eyes, remained content with her state. Then he turned around once more and took a small trip further, raising his hands to create a blue fire just in the middle of the air.  
"I suppose you haven't heard about the ritual of Elgar'Ghilan?" He was calm and distant as before.  
"The Spirit Guidance? The one that Falon'din used to bring back to life the lover of a hunter who killed her accidentally since she was turned into a halla by an enraged goddess Andruil as the said man dared to hunt without goddess' blessing?" She blurted out in a single breath.  
Solas looked at her with interest and mocking in his eyes. "What was that? Another Dalish fairy tale?" He gave out a small laugh. "Surprisingly enough, this one does contain the grain of truth in it. Yes, something like that," he confirmed.  
Solona's eyes widened with awe. Was she really walking in an ancient myth come true?  
"But you are no Falon'din."  
"Truly, I am not," he agreed, and the pride in his voice he could not or more probably simply wished not to hide. "But I learned a trick or two from him, when we were both young and on good terms."  
She still couldn't believe her ears, her thoughts racing and her mind confused.  
Solas continued, not letting her dwell on all the discoveries she had just made:  
"I will set up a path, marked by the veilfires like this one," he pointed at the blue fire still hanging in the air next to him. "You walk it through the memories of your own. Now you are sane, so cling to what really was, do not falter, whether it will be your heart's desire or a right thing to do that you are offered to change during your path. And you will be tempted with such choices. Remember to not leave the pathway and do not ever look back, no matter how they would beg."  
"They? Who they? " She seemed frightened.  
"You will see yourself," his tone was even and face unreadable. "I will be waiting at the end. Go now. Dareth shiral, ma falon." The music of Elvhen language reached her ears one last time.  
And then the path emerged out of nowhere, and the elf was gone nowhere to be seen.

Solona was still not sure if that was the right thing to do but it seemed she had little choice. And as she always was brave she steeled her heart and stepped onto the path near the blue fire burning without any heat produced.

So she walked, and at first the path was light and easy while she passed her childhood memories. The path turned to the right and around the corner, she encountered a woman standing and reaching out for her.  
"My dear! My dear girl..." the woman called tenderly.  
"Mother?!" Solona hadn't seen her for ages, nor she was sure that her mother still lived.  
"My girl, I thank the Maker, for He has brought you to me. Everything can be changed now, you have to change it. You don't need to be a mage, this was all a mistake. Come, my darling, we shall never be parted again. Choose right, and we shall be together for the rest of our lives." Tears came down from the eyes of the elderly woman that once was so beautiful.  
Solona could hardly bear it. She forced herself to turn her face away and pushed forward, putting a palm of her hand over her mouth to not let the cry leave her.  
Long and hard was her path, bending her with guilt and shame of her misdeeds and misery of her misfortunes, the crowd of spirits following her and calling out for her to turn back. As much as she wanted to glance at mother for one last time she didn't dare. Over and over again, she had to repeat her choices burdening her even more: she was betrayed by Irving and Jowan, she had to become a Grey Warden and watch Duncan die,  
she had to let Alistair kill Loghain, and Alistair himself then ended their romance, which was the only happy thing in her life then to endure the Blight...  
But every path of a mortal has its end, and at last it appeared before her in the shine of the green light. She saw Solas standing there his side to her. From her point of view, it seemed that he was holding a shining green ball of light in his hand. Undoubtedly that light was that of Conclave's burst and that was her last memory as a living woman.  
Only one step separated her from the green light when a man stepped out of the darkness surrounding the veilfire-lit path she was taking. He stood in front of her blocking her way, and watched her with his amber eyes, full of tenderness and silent plead.  
"Solona," he gasped.  
She recognized him at once. Of course, it was him. Cullen. "And I'm already so tired," she muttered to herself. She was unable to look away from him.  
"Solona, forgive me. Oh Maker, how could I have left you alone. And then you died! Never again, never will I let you go." He stood so close, his voice so familiar and so missed by her.  
"Cullen! We shouldn't."  
"Say no more. I will not let you throw yourself into death again." With those words he came closer and lowered himself to his knees, putting his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her stomach.  
He was no spirit. Instead, he was real and his breath made her clothes warm and wet.  
Solona could not move or resist in any way, starting to run her fingers through his hair, golden as the morning sun.  
"Do not leave me again," he pleaded, "do not go away from me."  
"I won't," she replied smiling down at him and closing her eyes. Finally, she was at peace and eternal she wished it to make.  
As if from the great distance she heard the cries of Solas calling her, urging her to come, but she didn't care, didn't move. Obviously, she had failed the Elgar'Ghilan.  
All of a sudden something as fast as a lightning came knocking her off her feet and pushing her into the green light. She fell onto the ground, face forward, still trying to cling to Cullen's hair. Luckily he was still here and she calmed herself caressing his blond locks, trying to put away the curls of hair from his eyes...  
A sudden cry of fear left her involuntarily. It was not Cullen.  
Some young blond man was staring at her with his large blue eyes, clear as a mountain lake.  
"Bright, brave, but broken..." he muttered. "I had to help".  
"A timely intervention, my friend," she heard Solas's voice and realized he was standing right next to her. The path was left behind. And Solas was smiling kindly.  
"You should thank Cole. He is a spirit of compassion." He explained.  
Solona stood up, taking a breath. "Thank you, Cole," she managed.  
She turned to Solas again. "Is this it? Will I live? And have my memories?"  
He nodded. "All of them save this one. This one I can not let you have."  
The elf circled her facing her then and placing a hand on her forehead. He closed his eyes, concentrating, but soon opened them again, turning around with a sigh: "Cole?"  
Cole pulled on his sleeve, demanding attention.  
"Dragon devours, drains, drags the demons inside... You've seen what they have become. She is marked, she joins them too soon, sad and sorrowful. In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice. No! You can't let her!"  
Solas paused, as if considering the spirit's words. "It was not your choice," he added quietly, addressing Solona, who looked at him and then at Cole, and back again, in amazement. "You're probably right, my friend," Solas turned to Cole, "it's no use bringing her back to life preserving that cruel mark she bears."  
Solas stepped aside from both of them. "The Grey Warden taint is nothing else but a corrupted spirit settled in a human body. At first, it gives strength to your own spirit, but then it overpowers you. As always, when one tries to use the power which is stronger than one possesses oneself. As such, there is no cure, because even if you remove that foreign spirit, too much is lost and cannot be regenerated. But you are lucky, for Mercy can replace that part of your spirit for you temporarily until you regain yours."  
Then he returned his hand on her forehead, and his fingers were cool and soothing.  
"It was a pleasure, da'shem'len. Now wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations of elven language are given below.  
> "Dirth ma, na'era melava enala?" “Tell me, what does your past dream discover now?”
> 
> "Fen'Harel, na melana sahlin. El melana sahlin. Lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir.  
> Dar'enasalin ma, an etha. Dar'ghilana var mir el'sulahn'nehn." - “Dread Wolf, your time has come. Our time has come. The path will emerge to a home tomorrow. Let you be victorious, be safe wherever you are. Let you guide us to our joy.”
> 
> "Era seranna-ma, da'shem'len. Ar'din nuvenin na'din. Ma melava halani. Ar tu na'halanila. Ma souveri, mala hamin nadas. Ma banal harel, da'shem'len." - “My apologies, little human. I don’t want to kill you. You helped me. I will now help you. You are weary, you must rest. You must fear nothing, little human.”
> 
> "Era seranna-ma. Ma emma tel'harel." “My apologies. You should not fear me.”
> 
> “Ma nuvenin” and “Ir abelas” are straight from the game, meaning “As you wish” and “I am sorry”, respectively.
> 
> “Garas, ma falon." “Come, my friend.”  
> "Sa'an sa’mana Falon'din Lethanavir..." Here “sa’an sa’mana” means literally “one place, one time” which is meant to serve as a analogy to “once upon a time”.
> 
> For the decoding of elven language I thank all the authors of the Dragon Age Wiki article and also an author of a work "Katie's Best Guess..." here on AO3.
> 
> The Dalish legend Solona mentions is loosely based on a compilation of two Ancient Greek myths: the one about Artemis and Actaeon and the one about Orpheus and Eurydice.
> 
> So in my story it is Warden Amell who informs Solas that Mythal is alive and seeking out for him.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. The Night Comes Down And It's Dark Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be violent.

Solas awoke to find himself in Commander Cullen's apartment, sitting on a large chest, which together with a bed constituted the room's furniture. The choice of room was made by Cullen himself, as he considered that place to be the most safe and undisturbed in Skyhold, moreover, he could guard them while performing his duties in his office below.  
The elf stood up and stepped up to the bed where Solona Amell was lying motionless, as if still in deep slumber. He touched her forehead lightly, and after that gripped her shoulder, shaking her gently to wake her up. Solas was successful; she opened her eyes and managed to sit up. He placed himself carefully by her side, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
"What's your name?" He asked without any delay.  
"Solona Amell." Her voice was quiet and meek, but she spoke calmly and clearly.  
"Where are you from? Who are you?" He issued questions again and again mercilessly, nodding approvingly as she answered. When her memory test was passed at last, he stood up and created a small magical barrier in front of her with a flick of his fingers.  
"Break the barrier."  
She looked at him hesitant, but then took a deep breath, closed her eyes, concentrating, stretched her hands towards the barrier, and... Nothing. When she opened her eyes, the barrier was still there, shining and glittering. Solona tried again, and then once more, but to no avail. She looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.  
"I can't. Somehow, I reach for it, but it's no longer there..." Her words were cloudy, but he seemed to understand, gesturing to stop her.  
Having annihilated the barrier, Solas came closer, and then suddenly grasped her wrist. She screamed in pain and pulled her hand away, showing a red burned mark around her wrist as a result of his fire spell.  
"Heal it, quickly!" He urged.  
Obeying his words, she covered her bruised hand with a healthy one, the bluish light wrapping it in comfort and healing it completely in a brief moment. She looked attentively down at her own hands, turning them in various directions.  
"You must rest more," Solas said calmly, "you’d better go to sleep." To his surprise, she followed his advice without any questions or argument which he'd expected.  
As he had sent her into the dream once more, he climbed down the ladder to leave the room. His thoughts were concentrated on what had gone wrong with her magic, but he was tired himself and that prevented him from finding the solution. Solas also had to rest.  
But as he put his feet on the floor of Commander's office, the elf faced Cullen. It was obvious that all the time they spent in the Fade Cullen was there, working and worrying for her. They started in the night, and it was already late in the evening when Solas appeared.  
Commander ran to him, seeming unable to wait in uncertainty longer even for a bit: "What?"  
"She is well. Don't worry. She is sleeping, but I would like to ask you to stay with her. It's best if she sees someone familiar when she wakes up." Cullen nodded. One didn't have to ask him to stay by her side - it was his strongest desire to do so.  
Solas looked weary and older than usual. He excused himself with a gesture and walked out.  
As he walked to his rotunda, he couldn't help asking himself what the reason was for her being unable to cast, yet being able to use healing magic. Of course, he hadn't studied the case properly, but still, he witnessed it with his own eyes. Was it the spirit interfering with her magic? Or did he remove too much when cutting her Warden part away from her own spirit? Was it the consequence of Cole's intervention in the ritual? Or was it his own mistake? He had no means of finding that out at that moment.

* * *

When Cullen climbed up his ladder and approached his bed on his toes in order not to disturb her sleep, the sun was setting low. Commander felt completely worn out; his armor weighted heavily on him. With a great relief, he removed it, piling it up tidily on the floor. Almost at once he was freezing, as his room was not properly heated, and, moreover, had a hole in its roof. But he didn’t mind at all; it was invigorating and would help not to fall asleep. He sat beside her, admiring her steady breathing and peaceful dreaming silently. Cullen smiled to himself and couldn't help the wetness gathering in his eyes. He would wait for her to wake up, no matter how long it took, no matter how tired and worn out he was. The last rays of the sun came bright through the window, and he blinked for a moment, not being able to resist the need to cover his tired eyes from the light.  
When he opened his eyes just a moment later, the darkness of the night surrounded him, and he was lying in his own bed, though dressed and uncovered. He must have fallen into sleep against his will! Cullen frowned at himself, propping up on his elbows to look around. The bed was empty near him - Solona did not lie by his side as before. _'How long did I sleep? Have I missed her waking up and going away somewhere?'_ Cullen sat up completely, turning his head around in search of her. And then he spotted Solona, standing at the double-framed window, her back facing him.  
The moonlight softly enlightened her body, offering him the most fascinating view. For her hair went loose down her back, and below he noticed that she was completely naked.  
He couldn't stop staring at her long legs and the curves of her bottom, displayed in front of him. What was going on? When did she get the time to undress and why was she standing there like that?  
As if she felt his burning gaze on her, Solona turned around slowly, making him shiver almost visibly against his will. They were once together intimately before, but that time he had neither time nor space enough to get a look, and now, she was standing half-turned to him, close enough to see all the details but also far enough to get the complete picture of her whole body. Solona smiled victoriously, noticing his knocked down expression as if knowing she was looking just perfect.  
She started walking towards him, swaying her hips only a bit to tease him. She was no longer the slim and skinny adolescent he fell in love with in Ferelden Circle. The years of Warden training as well as the luxurious Orlesian life in Montsimmard transformed her into a gorgeous woman, muscles and softness combined together in a delicious blend.  
Cullen forced himself to speak as soon as he collected some of his disoriented thoughts:  
"Solona! You are up! How do you feel?"  
She stopped her movement just to stand near the bed he was sitting on and he turned to her, placing his feet on the floor. "Hello, Cullen. I'm alright," she answered reassuringly, "and how are you, Cullen?"  
She laughed when he opened his mouth silently, trying to produce an answer, trying to catch his breath, her closeness too much for him to endure.  
"Did you miss me?" She purred, stepping even closer, making his legs open for her to stand between them, touching him ever so slightly.  
"Oh, I did," he exhaled finally, bringing his hands on her waist and then letting them slide along her sides up and down. The sensation of touching her was incredible; her skin smooth and cool under his burning hands.  
"I see," she laughed softly, moving her legs slowly and carefully one after another to the outer side of his thighs, not forgetting to brush her knees lightly on his crotch. Cullen moaned quietly with his mouth closed, feeling his desire building on even quicker than he wanted to. The strange feeling of being out of control seized him over, but he couldn't think it over, the thoughts slipping away from his grasp.  
Solona put her legs finally around his ones, sitting down to open her legs widely, and leaning into him to place his hands on the bed by his sides slightly behind his back and pin them by her own palms placed atop. "Do you like me like this?" She whispered into his ear, pressing her body against his and making him wish his clothes to disappear. "Completely naked and available for you, shamelessly open? Do you like it?" She repeated the question, slamming into him again.  
He couldn't reply, as he didn't know the answer. Her proximity was intoxicating, his mind clouded and his body at that moment already aching with lust and the need for release. He tried to free his hands but she held them with an unexpected force.  
"I see that you like it," she answered for him, "but are you not at all afraid?"  
Afraid? Among his lust, frustration of being deprived of the ability to move, his worry for her state, there was no place for fear. He shook his head in reply.  
To his surprise, she withdrew from him, springing to her feet, and letting out a laugh.  
"You really should. For I have returned to be even more powerful than ever. And you are defenceless now!" She exclaimed in triumph, dancing around the room and spinning around herself. "You are not taking _it_ ," she stressed out 'it' dangerously, "and you think it was a good decision?"  
Something was not right. How could she know about his lyrium withdrawal? Could she be informed by a Mercy spirit somehow?  
"He told you that it was right, and you listened to him. Listened to a mage!" She laughed again, stepping up to his chest where he kept all his belongings, and breaking it open with a spell.  
This was very, very wrong. Even the Mercy spirit could not know about his conversation with Maxwell about lyrium. If only he could have a moment of time to think, to reason about it all...  
But she wouldn't let him. As he lifted his eyes, he saw her holding a vial of lyrium above her head in a stretched hand. "I know you still keep it. I know you still want it," her eyes were glowing as well as the vial, "do you want it?" And she unscrewed the cap, throwing it away.  
He watched her stepping closer, the vial offered in her hand now stretched out to him. The scent of lyrium filled the air, reminding him of all his deprivation and suffering, but also of the bliss it could offer him, if only for a short time.  
"Take it," she ordered, "you have my permission."  
All his mind and spirit revolted, furious, enraged by her implications that him not taking lyrium was about someone prohibiting it, not his own decision. He wanted to take the vial and throw it away, crush it against the wall, but she snapped her fingers, and, just like the night before in the garden, he felt paralysed. He could only breathe and turn his eyes.  
She smiled wickedly, coming closer to him again, holding the vial tightly wrapped in her palm, now put lower, near her waist.  
Solona ran her fingers of her free hand through his hair, almost lovingly, sighing as her face changed into pure remorse and pity.  
"Why are you so rebellious, Cullen? Don't you see, it's for your own good." She was still stroking his head gently, her intonation soothing. "It's like a medicine. You have to take it, my poor Cullen. I know, I know," she murmured as he tried to make protesting sounds, "it's bitter, but don't worry, I will sweeten the pill for you."  
With her last words she pushed him onto his back effortlessly, so that he was now lying across the bed, and climbed on top of him, her thighs wrapped around his. Straightened up, she flipped the vial over, pouring its content all over her upper body.  
Cullen was watching her in mixed emotions, but the overthrowing beauty of the sight before his eyes was not lost on him. The glittering drops of lyrium shone in the dark of the night on her breasts and stomach, underlining her wonderful silhouette and making him want, want her in spite of all the wrong things she had just done to him and was still doing.  
"You can lick it off me," she whispered, leaning down to him and filling his nose with the smell of lyrium again.  
Cullen closed his eyes, trying to keep control of the smallest parts of his body that he still was able to. That helped him to concentrate and compose himself a bit. The things she was offering him, the things he could not have, but eagerly wanted to, the things he promised, he swore he would not take... It reminded him of something, but he couldn't really remember exactly what.  
He opened his eyes again, and said, putting all his effort into his words: "I will not. I can't-"  
She straightened herself up again, obviously furious at his denial, tall, menacing above him. "You refuse?! All right. I can wait."  
She moved her leg to sit on the one side of him, working with her deft fingers to remove his clothes, first his blouse, then his breeches. Her touches on his skin felt like little needles picking him, and he could only wonder what she was planning to do. Nothing good, that was for sure.  
With her occupied for a moment he felt the spell weakening, and his mind more clear. He remembered his encounter with a desire demon, and all at once it became very clear to him that this was very much like that. Only it could not be for real, or could it-?  
"You forget, my dear Cullen, that I can hold you still with just a spell, don't you?" She had finished her task of undressing him, returning her attention to him, the spell strong as ever again.  
She restored her position then, but it was now a lot harder for him to retain the clear mind, as they touched, skin on skin, and then-  
She adjusted herself until she was quite comfortable on him, and he was quite comfortable inside her.  
"Oh Maker," he couldn't stop himself from crying.  
"You take the lyrium, I move," she proclaimed. "You refuse, and I do too."  
That was unbearable, all his muscles stiff and aching from the spell, all his body tormented. All that he wanted at that moment, all that he needed, was only two or three movements of his hips. But he was held in place securely.  
"Have mercy, " he moaned.  
That had an unexpected reaction. "Mercy? Oh, that I have," she replied, starting to laugh at her own joke, "plenty, my dear Cullen!" Now she indeed sounded more and more like Mercy-Amell when he spoke with her in the garden.  
She was laughing so hard, that he felt her spell fading away again. This was his chance. This was not real, he said to himself. All of his fears and temptations combined, - Amell, desire demon, Mercy spirit, lyrium, - it just couldn't be real. It was only his tired consciousness playing tricks on him, only a nightmare. Pulling himself together, in one swift and forceful movement, he sat up, throwing her away from him, freeing himself, and... waking up, this time for real.

It was already late in the morning, but the day was cold and cloudy, and it was one of those mornings when you don't want to get out of the bed at all. Cullen didn't feel rested, though he was glad to be in the real world where nothing was changing unexpectedly, where he could control his own life. He got up, shivering from the cold, and committed to the task of putting his armor on.  
While dressing up, he cast cautious glances to the bed where Solona was still sleeping, as if his nightmare could come true if he stared for too long. But she looked very peaceful and untroubled, her face without any expression, breathing evenly. That calmed him down a little, although his worry that she had been dreaming for too long now was growing stronger. When would she wake up? When?  
He stepped up to the window and looked out to get a notion of the time of day and the weather. The sky was grey and the mountains were hidden in the mist; it was probably eight or nine in the morning. He had to come down and resume his work, but his heart was heavy; he just couldn't leave her alone.  
Pushing aside all his fears ( _'You can't be afraid of your dreams like a child!'_ ), he turned around to step to her side of the bed which was closer to the window. She lay there, covered by a blanket up to her armpits, her arms lying upon the cover parallel to her sides. She looked serene; maybe too serene for him. She was pale and thin, bringing pain and pity to his heart as he kneeled himself beside the bed.  
_'Oh Maker,'_ he thought, _'how weary and starved you look, my dear, my love...'_ He sat on his feet, dropping his head down. unable to endure the sight. The image of her was so much unlike his dream that was still so vivid in his mind, that the difference struck him.  
The shame ran into him, like a mountain stream after the rain, filling him with anger at himself. _'She is fighting the death itself at this very moment, the noble hero who almost died for the peace in her land, and you...! What a man have you become,'_ he addressed himself mentally, _'to sink in your lust in such time, to dream such indecent things about her...'_ Cullen covered his face with his hands, his whole body trembling nervously. _'What if she never wakes up?'_ The shocking thought ran through him.  
He had to calm down, for his duties in the Inquisition were still present. Not daring to look at her again, he put his hands together in a praying gesture, and pronounced quietly, as if he was afraid to be heard: "Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."  
He took a deep breath. It was good. The familiar words of prayer eased his mind and calmed his spirit.  
"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow." He continued louder, gaining more confidence in his tone.  
His meditative prayer brought him into a strange state of inner harmony; afraid to lose it and enjoying it while he could, Cullen kept silence, frozen in his position.  
"In their blood the Maker 's will is written."  
He dashed his head up, having heard her voice. She was sitting in the bed, resting her chin on her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the chapter.


	10. So quiet and peaceful, so tranquil and blissful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, after the long delay.  
> Sorry for that. And I intend to finish the story.

Cullen couldn't believe his eyes. But it was true, and she was there in front of him, in the plain daylight. He gazed at her, unable to find the words. Oddly enough, as there were so many things he wanted to tell her and so many questions he wanted to ask her before.  
She spoke instead.  
"Hello, Cullen." Her voice was weak, but of course it should be, he said to himself.  
Then what the elf said was true. Her memory was in place.  
"Do you remember me?" He asked quietly, though it was obvious that she did, at least his name. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand and pull her towards him and hold her close forever, but he didn't. He didn't feel worthy of her, not while his dream still lingered in his mind.  
She kept silence for a while, before answering him, as if she was thinking it over.  
"Yes, I do," she pronounced slowly at last, her tone still being somewhat odd, stirring worry in him, "I remember everything that ever happened to me very clearly. Maybe," she added after a small pause, "even clearer than ever. It lies like an open book before me."  
Cullen didn't like the choice of her words, he didn't like it all suddenly. She was so quiet and calm, but why was it worrying him beyond the measure? Why was it so reminding him of his previous encounters with- He didn't dare to use the word in relation to her even in his thoughts.  
He wanted to change the subject. Strange weaknesses spread in his knees and he still kept his position on the floor.  
"You were found in the Frostback Mountains after the Conclave. What were you doing there?"  
He hated how awkward that sounded. He hated how he sounded like an interrogator. Why was everything so hard, as if she was someone foreign to him?  
But she was not bothered at all, not a feature changed in her face. "I was going to the High Conclave meeting hall, when I heard it, the Grey Warden thing. You would not understand."  
But he did. The Calling. Of course. After Adamant it was very clear.  
"I knew the real thing, and that was not it, though similar. But I was-" she stumbled upon the words, confused.  
"Afraid? In panic?" He suggested.  
"I don't know," she replied, "I can't understand why I ran away, but I did. I can't remember why," she repeated.  
Cullen stood up. Now he wanted to run away, because it became very evident, that somehow she really was made a- no, not this word.  
Oh dear Maker, what had that elf done to her? What had he himself done in his selfish desire to have her back? Going against the Maker's will who was the only one to decide who lived and who died? What if she was just some kind of walking dead or some other foul creation of dark magic? It was a cowardice but he wanted, no, he needed to leave. As much as he longed for her to return just a few hours ago, now he couldn't stand seeing her and hearing her voice.  
"I-I" His stupid stuttering returned and he took a deep breath, "I need to leave, I'll be back soon, don't go anywhere."  
"Why are you leaving?"  
He had to answer something, still nothing came to mind.  
"What?" She asked. "Who said that?"  
"Who said what?" His voice echoed hers.  
"Someone said: "Inquisition is in danger. Go to the infirmary to heal the wounded."  
Oh Maker.That had to be the Mercy spirit. Cullen secretly hoped that the spirit would disappear after she is awoken, but apparently it didn't.  
"Forgive me, I was being inattentive," he said, stopping his leave, "and didn't tell you about all the things that happened while you were... sleeping."  
And so he informed her briefly on the Inquisition and Corypheus and the war and the spirit, and she nodded to his story, and he wondered whether she was nodding to him or to the voice in her head.  
"The Inquisitor is away now," he ended, " but when he returns I will introduce you and you can offer your service to the Inquisition."  
"Can't I go now?" She also stood up from the bed. He noticed she was still wearing her robes from the Conclave which time had turned into dirty rags similar to Cole's. He was never the man to think clothes important, but this was too much.  
"You can't go like this." He would not let Hero of Ferelden be seen like some needy beggar.  
"Wait here, " he added, "I will return with something more suitable to wear for you." And he was out.  
Easier said than done, he thought while crossing the bridge to the Main Hall. Where on earth would he find a dress or some other female clothes in Skyhold?  
When he entered Solas' place, his dress thoughts were interrupted by the return of his frustration and fear.  
He came up to the elf who was sitting at his table and reading."What have you done to her?" Cullen asked without a preamble.  
Solas lifted his eyes from the book, turning to Cullen, question written all over his face, brow arching slightly.  
"She is not the person she was!" He cried.  
"When did I promise she would be?" Solas replied.  
"She is a Tranquil!" And indeed that word sounded as horrifying as he feared before.  
"Oh? That's unexpected." Solas seemed to be surprised, and that provided little comfort for Cullen. "How does if feel, when this happens to the one you care for?" He asked coldly, pointing to Cullen's templar past.  
"Don't worry," the elf added in a warmer tone, standing up and offering the seat to Cullen, " it might be only temporarily."  
Cullen sat, covering his face with his hands in despair. "What have we done... What have I done..." He muttered.  
"Think of the bright side, " Solas said calmly, " would you rather she be threatened by Corypheus' calling? Or dead? "  
"I guess I should be grateful to the Maker that she is alive," Cullen said through his hands.  
"But if it is not temporal? If she will always be a Tra- I can't. What should I do?" Cullen turned his face to Solas.  
"What should you do?" Cullen could swear he saw sympathy in the elf's face, something very rare to him, but then Solas turned away from him, arms crossed at his chest, staring at some of his murals. "Pray to your Maker. If he couldn't help her, no one could." The elf added, still turned away.  
The conversation was over and Cullen left going up the stairs, remembering his dress business.  
"A strange thing. Here am I, helping them and being blamed for that. Here is that Maker, doing nothing and being praised for that. Maybe I should try that too, " Solas mused aloud, but no one was there to hear.  
Walking up the spiral staircase, Cullen set his mind. He would ask Vivienne about the clothing he was searching. The idea seemed to be a good one, since the mage already knew about the strange Skyhold visitor. What did he know about Cole's doings!..  
Passing by Dorian, who waved his greeting enthusiastically, Commander went directly to the door behind which Vivienne had installed her small but nicely furnished place. Vivienne herself was however not there. Cullen looked around walking carefully between the pieces of furniture which had to very expensive, when he noticed her on the small balcony.  
Having walked out he leveled with her and greeted her politely:  
"How do you do, Madame."  
She turned, seemingly delighted to see him:  
"Commander Cullen! It's nice to have you paying me a visit. Please, have a seat, darling." And she pointed to one of the sofas, inviting him back to room.  
When they took a seat together, Vivienne continued: "I was taking some fresh air. It's good that you haven't left thinking that I was away. To what do I owe the pleasure, Commander? Could I hope that it has something to do with my previous request of wyvern heart?"  
"No, I'm sorry, but there is no news on this subject yet," Cullen shook his head. "I got the confirmation that our men had received the request, but that's all for now."  
"In fact, I have come to you to ask a favor myself." He added, surprised at his own courage. Vivienne had always made him feel insecure and uncomfortable, fearing to say something inappropriate, and so speaking with her was not a simple task for him.  
"Oh?" She seemed intrigued, turning a bit to face him and easing her upright position into the sofa arm. "What is it?"  
"It is connected to clothes." He really didn't know where to start.  
"Oh, have you changed your mind then? I recall you trying to assault The Winter Palace with you armor." She nodded approvingly. "I have to admit, Commander, that though I disapprove of your mingling with that Tevinter if that changes your opinion on style it might be not that bad."  
"I could lend you a seamstress, if that is what you seek." She added courtly.  
Cullen had to get straight to the matter before she would assume more and more things about his personal life.  
"I need a dress," he put hastily, and Maker help him but he was blushing.  
"A dress, dear?" Now she was intrigued.  
Cullen couldn't understand why this ever looked like a good idea. But there was no turning back.  
"Yes. It's for-" Cullen leaned forward and lowered his tone, "our guest."  
Vivienne raised her brows a bit. "Are you having a guest, Commander? A female guest?"  
She smiled: "That's charming. I just wonder what you have done with her own dress so that you seek a replacement. " She was enjoying this, obviously.  
"And here I was thinking that your passing time with that Tevinter was something more. "  
"More?! Maker, we only play chess from time to time!" Cullen exclaimed. This was not going as planned, not at all. Had she forgotten about Solona?  
"Now, Commander, you're being simply rude", Vivienne disapproved, "no need to raise your tone in my presence."  
"I apologize, Madame," Cullen hurried to pardon himself. "As I said, the dress is for- for a friend of mine."  
Vivienne smiled again, and that could only mean things were going to get worse.  
"Oh dear, I see. Isn't this 'friend of yours' like when you really mean yourself? I guess that I wasn't mistaken before about Dorian, darling. No need to be so ashamed, I'm not judging. Are you doing that for him? "  
Cullen couldn't produce a word. His face was burning and his embarrassment prevented any decent thoughts to come to his mind.  
Vivienne took his silence for confirmation. "I'll help you, because you are helping me with a wyvern's heart."  
She walked away to her wardrobe and returned with a white fold of fabric in her hands.  
"Here, take this. It's a nice one and it is stretching, so it would fit practically everyone, except a Qunari maybe."  
Cullen could only press a "Thank you" out of himself and be off as soon as possible.  
"Mission completed," he thought, "but oh- at what price?"

On his way back Commander tried to avoid any contacts. But wasn't that day unfortunate for him!  
When he was passing the rotunda, he nearly bumped into Maxwell Trevelyan, in person. Inquisitor had just returned from Emprise du Lion and was apparently showing Solas some items or notes connected to the rich elven history of that area.  
He was pleased to see Cullen, even if he was more grim and worn out than usual.  
"Cullen! Good to see you. Saves me the time to visit you myself."  
"Inquisitor," Cullen replied.  
"The war council starts now, " Maxwell proclaimed, "We've found evidence in Sahrnia. It's urgent. Come to the War Room as soon as you can, Commander."  
"I'll be there in five minutes," Cullen promised and hurried to his quarters.  
When he entered his office and climbed up to his bedroom, Solona was sitting on the bed. He noticed that she made up the room a bit, but that brought no joy to his heart. Tranquils usually cleaned up the Tower or organized books in a library. That was very common.  
"Hello." She said.  
"Put this on, and come down, I'll wait for you there." He replied, handing her the Vivienne's dress.  
She followed his instructions, and very soon appeared in his office, dressed up and ready to leave.  
Cullen was sitting in his chair, trying to collect all the reports that he had prepared in advance for the War Council, but all his thoughts were interrupted when he saw her standing there.  
The dress Vivienne gave him was of simple style, going crisscross on the upper body and falling down to the floor from the waist in a free flowing manner. Solona had her long brown hair braided back and her hands clasped together in front of her. The beauty of this woman once encouraged him to do whatever was needed of him, but now it only piqued his heart with the sorrow of failure. He failed her. How would he spend the rest of his life knowing that she would never smile again?  
"Come with me," he said, "I will take you to Inquisitor." That much he could do for her.  
And when they both entered the Main Hall, Maxwell and Leliana were already waiting for him at the entrance to Josephine's office. Cullen increased his pace, taking Solona's hand into his one and tugging her along so that she would not be left behind. He couldn't help noticing that despite everything touching her still felt very good and did various things to his mind and body, but he concentrated on his current goal.  
"Inquisitor! Sorry for the delay. I would like to inform you that in your absence Skyhold received a guest, willing to join the Inquisition. Let me introduce to you Solona Amell, Hero of the Fifth Blight."  
As he was saying that, Leliana's face became pale and her eyes wide with surprise, as if she wanted to look better at someone so familiar to her in front of her, someone who she considered to be dead.  
While Inquisition's spymaster gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth and whispered "Impossible" to herself, Maxwell bowed his head politely:  
"A pleasure to meet you, lady Amell. I've heard about your heroic doings, and it's an honor for me to greet you into the Inquisition myself. But time runs short nowadays, and we need to proceed to the Council already, if you'll excuse us. We'll definitely have a talk later, Lady Amell, you have my word."  
"Solona!" Leliana had finally cried when her ability to speak returned to her. "Maker's mercy! (Cullen flinched at the word) I can't believe-"  
She made an attempt to hug her friend, but was stopped by Maxwel catching her by hand.  
"We must go," he repeated, both to Cullen and Leliana. And with that Inquisitor opened the door and walked in, waving them to follow.  
And they followed, though Leliana made protesting remarks, and refused to come through the door which Cullen held open for her.  
"You go first, " she grunted. Cullen didn't argue, for they were in a hurry, and when she followed him, he heard: "How long is she here?" Leliana asked.  
"Well, for a week maybe," he answered as they passed now empty Josephine's place.  
"A week! And you haven't bothered to tell me?" Leliana almost choked.  
"You're a spymaster and you don't even know what's happening under your very nose?" Cullen retorted.  
"I won't take it lightly, Commander," she whispered as they finally entered the War Room where Josephine and Maxwell were already discussing the latest news.

* * *

The council was not long but when it ended, all of them were exhausted. Too much information was poured onto them, too many hard decisions had to be taken. At last Maxwell announced it to be over. Leliana left immediately, dissolving in the night, most likely to check with her scouts and messengers, while Josephine walked gracefully away, excusing herself for the need to attend to her own business. She was still working on achieving the lordship for Montilyets.  
When Inquisitor and Cullen were left together in the War Room, Maxwell stopped him from leaving as well, by saying quietly:  
"Cullen, don't go. Just a moment, I need your help."  
Cullen stopped, turning around, evidently surprised:  
"What's going on? You are not yourself today, my friend."  
"You don't know how right you are by saying that," Maxwell replied. He looked around, checked that the door was closed tightly, and continued," No one will disturb us here."  
"It's about... lyrium." He added with an effort, leaning on the War Table.  
"Red lyrium. It's everywhere in Emprise, and it seems I got overexposed."  
Cullen's eyes opened in terror. "You can't possibly mean-"  
"No, I'm not like those things we met there, Red templars, no. But, I'm feeling...not very well."  
"That's very dangerous, Inquisitor," Cullen frowned, "we cannot let it affect you. Without your rift-closing abilities, we cannot win the fight."  
"I know, Cullen. I... I just don't know, how it happened."  
"And the others?" Cullen asked.  
" Well, Varric kept distance from this stuff, he warned me. Bull did too. But... " Maxwell sighed. His face was pained.  
"I wanted to destroy it, as much as I could, and so Cassandra and me went to break the veins."  
"She is not affected in any way, don't worry." Maxwell added.  
"At first, there were no signs of exposure. But with time, they appeared. I heard it myself, Cullen."  
"What was it?"  
"The music. Not pleasant, but stunning, breathtaking. Filling you with awe and power, with anger and self-confidence at once."  
"Are you still hearing it now? How do you feel now?"  
"I... I'm better, really. When I'm not near it, I don't hear anything. But my head aches terribly, and now that I've felt that power, it's difficult not to... not to want it back." He almost whispered.  
"So, Cullen, I thought, that you... I mean, you're dealing with something like it yourself. Maybe you could help me."  
Cullen shook his head. "My situation... is quite different, Inquisitor." He circled the war table slowly, rubbing his neck absentmindedly in thought. "I never wanted any power from lyrium. I wanted to protect people, even if at a price of my own life. But," he added, finally stopping his motion, " the side effects of lyrium, that I am familiar with, of course."  
"How do you cope with it?" Maxwell asked impatiently."The headache, the weakness, the fits of anger or anxiety during the night?..."  
"Well, my methods may not suit you, but still, I will share them with you," Cullen replied, " what helps me, is physical training. Train to the brink of exhaustion, and you sleep well at night."  
"You can join me for my evening run, if you like."  
"With pleasure," Maxwell answered, and they both went outside through the Main Hall. While passing, Maxwell, a bit relieved that Cullen had agreed to help him, told him that the effect of the red lyrium affected greatly his behavior.  
"I hope you haven't done anything irreparable, " Cullen commented.  
"I might have done that, " Maxwell sighed. "I have kissed Cassandra."  
"But isn't that something I should congratulate you with?"  
"She was mad. She is mad, still, what's more important." Maxwell shrugged his shoulders, "The lyrium sharpened all my feelings and sensations, and I just couldn't resist myself."  
"I could talk to her," Cullen offered, "explain her, that lyrium-"  
Maxwell interrupted him with a gesture, "No need, my friend. Talking to ladies, that I can still handle myself." He grinned, and Cullen was not sure anymore whether he was complaining or boasting before.  
"Had Seeker Pentaghast ever told you that you were an arrogant bastard?"  
"Well, she had, " said Maxwell, " but how would _you_ know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Also, please forgive my grammatical errors if there are any present. I try my best, but English is not my native language. So, I only hope my work is not unreadable ^^


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